Should My Eyes Deceive Me
by dentalfloss
Summary: "It's the real deal," Klaus said smugly, his proprietary hand back on his hip. "I will accept no less than eight million for him."  Marty knew in that moment that nothing would ever again be the same.  Violence, Transformation, TEAM heavy, Read Warning.
1. Intro

**Rating:** PG13

**Characters:** Marty (main), G, Sam, Kensi, Hetty, Eric, Nell, original baddies.

**Warnings:** Violence, abduction, abuse, SEXUAL ABUSE (implied), a/u, character transformation, friendship, hurt/comfort.

**Notes:** This story is more character driven than case driven. I've been picking away at this one for a while and it's basically a guilty pleasure (isn't all fanfic?). I make no apologies, but I do appreciate helpful criticism or, really, any comments at all. I hope you enjoy.

**Summary:**__

_When they grabbed him he was already in his apartment,_ _it was late, and he'd had a few beers. "What do you want?" he asked the gunman quietly._

"_We have orders to relocate you," the guy shrugged. _

_He never imagined it would lead to this:_

"_It's the real deal," Klaus said smugly, his proprietary hand back on his hip. "I will accept no less than eight million for him." Marty knew in that moment that nothing would ever again be the same._

…

**Should My Eyes Deceive Me**

…

It begins…

…

Marty has spent his entire life understanding exactly why he is different, exactly what that means, and exactly why he could never tell anyone. One of the few things his parents had taught him was that the possibility of exposure existed and he needed to be careful. He'd never truly expected it to happen.

That might have been why he was completely out of his depth with it finally did.

….

When they grabbed him he was already in his apartment, it was late, and he'd had a few beers before heading home.

Stripping off his shirt on his way to the bathroom he didn't bother turning on any lights, didn't bother turning on the radio or TV, and basically did anything he could to try and avoid the fact that it was Christmas and, other than Hetty's most excellent after work party he had pretty much no plans to celebrate, no family to celebrate with, and no friends who weren't in protective custody that he felt comfortable butting in on. He was okay with this, he had reasons for not getting too close to people, very important reasons, but he could admit to himself it still sucked. Plus he wouldn't have minded tagging along on Kensi's little Hawaiian trip, the water was incredible there and he rarely turned down the opportunity to swim in a beautiful place, even if it was only to surf. But hey, he could take a hint and a not so subtle brush off. It was cool; maybe he'd convince her to let him tag along next time.

Still, he may have been broodier than normal, which was why he wasn't as focused on his surroundings as he should have been (Sam and G were going to have some pointed words for him later). Finishing up in the bathroom he was just on his way to see what he had in his fridge when they made their move, lunging out of the dark and grabbing him from behind, or at least trying to. He heard the movement a moment before he felt an arm trying to wrap around his neck and instinct had him twisting back and throwing out a wild backhand. He connected with what felt like a neck, the startled gasp of a man filling the apartment.

Before he could take further action a thick set of arms wrapped around him from behind and tightened over his chest like a vice. This attacker was clearly larger, lifting his feet slightly off the ground so he had no leverage. In retaliation Deeks planted his feet on the kitchen counter and pushed, hard. The guy holding him tumbled backwards with a curse, loosing his balance but unfortunately not his grip and they both went crashing heavily to the ground. The side of Deeks's face somehow managed to graze the kitchen table on the way down, the sharp pain nearly disorienting him, but he lunged up and threw his elbow into the body beneath him, hearing the satisfying crack of ribs and breathless gasp of pain. He did it again and then rolled off, crashing into the armchair and sending it tipping over. He hadn't realized he'd shoved hard enough to carry them into his living room.

"Shit," he heard a curse from his left and moved away from its source. He had a back up weapon in the bedroom and his main piece in his safe, which was also in his bedroom. Neither weapon was easy to access right now. He didn't believe in drinking and carrying a loaded firearm, but if this was going to be the result he might have to reconsider that rule, or stop drinking. No matter, he just had to get to the other side of the room and he'd be at the front door. Hell, he should just open his mouth and start yelling, maybe get his neighbours attention so they could call the cavalry.

He went to do just that when the TV clicked on, loudly. The glow cast about the room, flashy and fast as some monster truck rally screamed in the background. Deeks flinched at the unexpected intrusion but took the opportunity to look around and assess his next move. Screaming was still an option.

He froze when the man standing by the TV aimed a gun very pointedly at him, the muzzle appearing twice as long due to the silencer attached to its end.

"That's enough," the guy warned, just loud enough for Deeks to hear over the roaring engines on screen. Judging by the way the weapon was held and the fact that it looked like it was on target with Deeks' chest and unlikely to move, Deeks was forced to admit defeat. He swallowed back the growing fear, hid his uncertainty, and tried to catch his breath as he perched on his knees in the space between his coffee table and couch. "Hands on your head, slowly," the man ordered and Deeks complied, keeping his eye on the man with the weapon instead of the one groaning on the floor a few feet away. "Get up Darris, we don't have all night. Mike, would you get in here and cuff him," he sounded impatient and Marty had to force himself not to attack as 'Mike' came from the kitchen, his breath wheezing, and forced his arms down behind his back and secured him roughly.

A pounding on the wall caused them all to tense up.

"Marty, turn that thing down already!" his neighbour yelled, or more like muffled through the wall, and the man with the gun complied after a second. He looked at Deeks expectantly, waving his gun a little for emphasis. Deeks, cuffed and on his knees with three obviously violent men surrounding him, was not an idiot.

"Sorry man, won't happen again," he yelled back loudly. The walls were thick but his apology would be heard and at least these guys wouldn't go over there and shoot him to keep him quiet. "What do you want?" he asked the gunman quietly, his one eye starting to swell and his headache making it difficult to focus in the dim light.

"We have orders to relocate you," the guy shrugged, looking like he didn't really give a shit so long as he got paid. Deeks probably should have expected the chloroform, but he bucked when the rag soaked in it was clapped over his nose and mouth. An arm wrapped around his neck, holding him warningly in place, the last thing he saw was the gun lowering before everything went fuzzy black to bright white and then became nothing at all.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One.

…

Masters eyed the bound man speculatively for a long moment, noting the table he was strapped to, noting his naked state, the rags roughly tied around his mouth to mute his enraged howling, the bruises clearly still forming on well sculpted limbs, and then turned away. He wasn't here for him and whatever Klaus dealt with on the side he didn't want any part of. It wasn't that he was unfamiliar with human trafficking, or that he would have been uninterested in this particular body, but he had other hobbies that, on and existential level, outweighed the more carnal pleasures. He was a man of passion, after all, not just lust.

"I certainly hope you have something more interesting to show me than what I'm currently witnessing here," he stated calmly, noting that Klaus swallowed nervously in his presence. He was quick to regain his confidence however, and the greedy gleam that was so often visible on his face remerged once more.

"Of course, of course," Klaus smiled his typical slimy smile and were it not for the fact that this man had brought him his favorite pieces in his gallery to date he would have long ago chosen to work with someone else. However, when one is dealing in the trade of illegal goods it is not so easy to simply pick up a phone book and call a dealer. "I have something that will make the rest of your collection look like a five year olds first pet goldfish." Irritation at the dig flared but Masters kept his silence, choosing to show his impatience with a frown instead and Klaus hurriedly turned and, with a flourish, waved at the naked man strapped to the table.

This time he didn't keep the irritation from his features as he once again looked over the very angry prisoner with dark blonde hair flopping into one heavily swollen eye.

"I am not feeling amused Klaus," he all but growled and Klaus had the audacity to grin even wider, almost mockingly. Masters most trusted aid shifted slightly beside him, no doubt preparing to beat the trafficker into submission the moment he was given permission. He held off though, as Klaus brazenly stepped beside the viciously struggling man and laid a proprietary hand on his abdomen. The man bodily flinched away and then froze, his good eye narrowing and his nostrils flaring as he fought to control his breathing. Clearly he had figured out the moment they had joined this meeting that he wasn't getting any help from Masters, he was waiting now to see his fate, his wrists still twisting slightly to test the bounds without drawing too much attention.

"I will accept no less than eight million for him," Klaus said in rebuttal.

"Fuuooouuuu," the man lunged, barely stretching the yellow straps pinning him down, trying to kick his legs loose, to get anything loose. Masters couldn't help rising an eyebrow in audacity at this and looked the prisoner over again, before scoffing.

"Yes, while I will admit that he is a well sculpted and fine looking man, he is hardly worth that outrageous sum, especially as he's damaged. You told me you had something for _my_ collection and I grow bored with this," but he would give Klaus a chance to explain, because he might not like the man but he had yet to let him down with a purchase. His asking price for this bruised, damaged person was also more than any sane man would pay for a harem of the most beautiful woman man could stand. He had two visible gun shot scars on his chest alone, not to mention age old scars that stood out on his flushed skin. "I don't make a habit of dealing in people Klaus." The threat that he didn't take kindly to people wasting his time was implied.

"Of course not," Klaus did not loose his smugness, instead nodding at one of the two very obvious henchmen loitering along the wall forward. The dangerous looking man moved quickly and silently, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses that gave nothing of his thoughts on this scenario away, and produced a syringe from his suits pocket. At the sight of it the prisoner renewed his struggling with an energy that seemed to surprise Klaus, who looked down at him with startled fondness and stroked his stomach as though to soothe him. "Though it may help if I point out that this fine specimen is not completely human." The guard leaned a heavy hand onto the thrashing blondes shoulder, pressing him hard into the table, and jabbed the short needle into the straining muscle of his arm.

"Ieeeloo" the scruffy blonde snarled around his spit soaked gag and Masters didn't have to hear the words to know they were violent. Such unpleasantness.

"I think you had better explain," Masters noted the tiny red bruises on the upper arm that most definitely bespoke of previous injections as the man continued to struggle, his chest heaving as he tried to get enough air. It was pathetic to watch actually; you would think he'd have realized he couldn't get away by now. Still, you had to admire the attempt at defiance.

"I found him completely by luck. Obviously at first I thought I had sampled too much of my merchandise," Klaus grinned stupidly and all but crooned at the now weakly struggling man, who still tried to glare menacingly. "Regardless I had my men follow and then acquire him. I've only had him for two days and can't tell you very much on his care and handling, that's more your area of expertise, but I can tell you that the best way to get the results we desire is to relax him a bit. A shot of amobarbital seems to do the trick, gets him to lose enough self-control that we can force his change, but I will say that without the aid of drugs it is pretty much a lost cause unless, I suspect, he allows it."

"Get on with your show Klaus, I have places to be," Masters made a show of checking his Breitling pocket watch and slipping it back into his slacks. Klaus looked pointedly at his second henchman, also very large and intimidating and sporting a deep bruise over his throat. Masters had no fear of him, his aid Allen was more then capable of dealing with them, and if not Masters had another 'aid' waiting just outside the door. Klaus's man stepped forward, lugging a large bucket and unceremoniously dumped it over their prisoner in a long stream. Some of it splashed on Masters very expensive slacks.

Klaus must have read the pure aggravation he was feeling because he held up his hands, placating, still smug, and gestured at the prisoner.

"Just wait, I promise you will be more than satisfied," he insisted. Masters wasn't as rich and successful as he was by letting his temper get the better of him, but it was a near thing. A strained whimper from the sopping wet man caught his attention, the sound different from the struggling gasps earlier. His blue eyes were hidden as he squeezed them closed and tried to turn his head into the table, muscles straining on his neck as he clearly fought for control over something. Masters couldn't explain why he was suddenly intrigued, his eyes sweeping over the writhing form. After a moment Klaus gave an irritated huff and another bucket of water was poured over him and he keened beneath the gag.

Then all at once things seemed to shift on his body at a rapid pace. Masters startled and stepped back as Allen made to protect him. Flesh seemed to grow and mold from somewhere unseen, layering in glistening bronze and gold flecked with black so quickly that he was sure if he had looked away for a moment he would have missed it. The tanned legs were pulled together and melded, ankles and feet seemed to snap and stretch out painfully for a brief second before taking on completely new shapes. Hair disappeared and skin was overcome and then Masters world seemed to shift.

He wasn't the only one who stood mesmerized as he took in what had once been an average man and was now a fantasy come to life.

"This is a trick," he murmured, stepping past Allen and beside the still squirming –thing.

"It's the real deal," Klaus said smugly, his proprietary hand back in place on the creatures hip, right where normal human flesh met what was apparently the scales of a fish. "What you have here is a bonafied mermaid." The mermaid in questions' eyes opened at that, one far more than the other, and his head lolled in despair, still too out of it from the drugs to focus on anything but clearly unhappy.

"Is he adaptable to underwater life?" Masters was already making calculations on the size of his aquariums at home. He had one that would hold him temporarily, until he and his wife designed a new one that would be more suitable. Perhaps the elevated walk in pool in their bathroom would do; it had no lid to keep the creature locked underwater but one entire side was glass, which would make for great viewing opportunities.

"As far as I can tell. We held him under for a few hours and he didn't need to come up for air." Klaus was back to beaming smugly, clearly sure that this was a done deal.

"Has he eaten anything?"

"Refused anything we offered, though I think that was more due to suspicion that it was drugged than anything else. His fridge was stocked with regular food."

"So he's not from the ocean?" He stepped closer still, not sure where to look first and was inexplicably drawn to the limp, folded caudal fin that lay half on the ground, scraping the dirty floor with every shift the manfish made. It was the most beautiful replacement for human feet he could imagine. "Allen, your jacket," he ordered and the expensive garment was promptly handed over.

"We spotted him crawling out of the water, watched a while to see him get his legs back. Followed him back to an apartment and from the way he reacted to us I'd say he hasn't spent too much time in the water, but you'll have to take it up with him. Fancies himself quite the smart mouth so you won't have difficulty with conversation." Masters had spread the jacket out beneath the fin, moving it gently, the flesh slick beneath his fingers, and he itched to spread it out and get a real look at its shape, size, the steaks of patterns he could just make out in the delicate folds. He bet it was exquisite. It wouldn't due to damage it because of a lack of consideration.

"The damage on him seems unnecessary," he commented as he took in the assortment of bruising with new interest.

"It wasn't. He knows how to fight, took out two of my guys, one needing a trip to the hospital with busted ribs, and that's after we managed to sneak up on him. If you're interested in purchasing him than you should take precautions, keep a guard on him unless he's securely locked down. He responds well to guns."

"Does he have a name?" Masters asked as he stepped close and looked down on the bruised face, the scruffy unshaven jaw, the floppy hair and the unswollen, bloodshot, deep blue eye that was trying to focus on him. He blinked slowly, lips working around the rag pressing into the corners of his mouth, trying to find an easier source of air.

"Bartender called him Marty." Not much of a name but now one he would never forget.

"Allen," Masters calmly looked to his now jacketless aid, his weapon and holster standing out on the white button up. "Wire the money to Mr. Klaus from the Hayden account. I would very much like to take this purchase home today. And cancel my appointments for this afternoon." Allen nodded and pulled out his phone.

"One more thing," Klaus called for his attention and Masters looked at him expectantly. "I'd be much obliged if you added that very fine pocket watch to the payment. I'm a big fan of arriving to places on time." Masters contemplated denying the request, then looked down at his newest acquisition. He was paying a ridiculous sum for him already, he supposed his three hundred thousand dollar watch was nothing but a trinket. He fished it from his pocket, the gold casing warm in his hand, and casually tossed it to Klaus, who eyed it greedily before tucking it away.

They poured another bucket of water over the creature and the payment was concluded within minutes. Masters rubbed gentle fingers over the fin where a mans thigh would be. Solid, warm, slick as opposed to slimy. He pressed his entire palm in, feeling the muscles tense and flex beneath the flesh though they had no real visible definition. The scales were present but smooth, the fins that sat at his hips pulled tightly against his flesh, no doubt a protective instinct. He itched to touch all over, but instead pulled away. That could wait.

"I presume you've already arranged for transportation," he inquired and Klaus nodded, pleased with himself.

"I have a moving van. We've rigged an old freezer to the wall and half filled it with ocean water. He fits and you'll want to keep him wet unless you'd rather transport him with legs. He'll be easier to deal with this way I think, less running away."

"That sounds fine. The sooner we leave the better," he ordered, impatient to be home to examine his purchase more directly. It was a two-hour drive after all. Standing back and watching Klaus and his two large guards unstrap the dazed being and carry him into the back of a truck seemed surreal. Watching as the uncoordinated merman tried to clumsily climb out of the freezer until they secured a grated cover over top was interesting. Seeing the merman try to fold in on himself in the improvised tank with the visceral knowledge that he belonged to _him_ now blossomed a warm tingle of excitement in his chest.

There were two things he loved in this world. One was possessing things and the power that came with such possessions. The second was his love for creatures of the ocean. Ever since he was a boy he had had been obsessed and now used his riches to build remarkably self-indulgent aquariums in his home, not all containing legally owned animals. Seeing the halo of hair and the golden-bronze rippling around the deep green-black flecks on the fin just below the choppy surface, well, it was worth every penny. Every single penny.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two

…

He struggled. He fought. He squirmed and wriggled and thrashed. He would have bitten if the gag hadn't been in the way and scratched if his hands hadn't been bound. The world dipped and swayed and swirled around him even though he knew he was lying on a hard tables surface. Strapped in place. Not moving.

He'd always had control over his transformations, hell, his first shift had been mostly controlled even if he hadn't been aware of what had been happening at the time. Controlling it was a part of his nature, his instinct. Of course he'd learned quickly that needed to be wet, the saltwater somehow triggering his bodies metamorphosis when it hit his skin, but so long as he didn't stay submerged for too long he could force his legs to remain in place. Once he'd passed the awkward hormonal teenage years he'd realized he could stay in the ocean for hours without the shift if he concentrated enough. He'd convinced himself that shifting would never be an issue so long as he was careful.

He had been so very careful.

With this secret, this freak side of him, he was the most careful son of a bitch on the planet. Except apparently he wasn't, or else they wouldn't have seen him, let alone caught him. He'd always had nightmares about being captured in a fishermans net or something. He'd taken to avoiding a real swim as much as possible unless the energy built up too much, the urge to swim itching just under his skin, and resisting it turned from being uncomfortable to being painful. He spent far less time in his fishform than was healthy, but it was a sacrifice he willingly made beause he couldn't guarantee his safety in the water. So it was funny (in that it really, really wasn't) that despite all these precautions to avoid fishermens nets, and scubadivers, and surfers, when they came for him he was grabbed in his apartment. On land, with two working legs. Dry.

It had taken an almost embarrassingly long time to realize that the reason he couldn't figure out who the guys that snatched him were was because they had absolutely nothing to do with his career in law enforcement (he didn't think they even knew he was a cop) and everything to do with his second nature. _No problem_, he'd thought, _he could control himself_. He never shifted unless he wanted to.

He hadn't taken into account that drugs could strip away his control and that these guys were not shy about trying to figure out how to trigger him. Not like this. Naive. Stupid. Careless.

It was far to hard to resist the shift once he started having difficulty determining whether he was floating, falling, or buried ten feet underground. As soon as the water hit his body it panicked (without his permission) and woops, here comes instinct and bam! He was a merman.

He was a naked merman strapped to a table. He was a drugged merman pinned to the bottom of a water filled freezer with freaking mop handles digging into sensitive places and heavy men leaning on the other end, holding him under. He was a naked man strapped to a table. He was groped and prodded and drugged some more and then, apparently, he was sold.

He didn't think it could even be called human trafficking, as he wasn't particularly human in this form.

Of course he struggled some more when they loaded him into the truck. He struggled when they dumped him in the water filled freezer again, until the homemade grate slammed shut overtop, nearly taking a few fingers that he sluggishly pulled out of the way just in time.

He was having too much difficulty concentrating beyond simple thoughts: Good, bad, completely fucked. Trapped. Sold. Exposed.

Well, shit. Eventually, when the drugs ran their course, he would also ponder how life as he knew it was over. How chances of him getting out of this mess were probably a lot higher than the average person, seeing as he had a team of seemingly superhumans that would start looking for him as soon as they realized he was missing (they would find, he was sure of it). How chances of him moving from one cage to another once he was rescued were high, because he loved his team and knew they at least tolerated him (to the point where they took turns sitting vigil at his bedside while he recovered from bullet wounds), but really, what other kind of response was there to discovering what he truly was? There wasn't one. But those were thoughts for the future, when he could think beyond fear, confusion, and floating.

When the truck started moving he couldn't think beyond 'make it stop.' The space was too small, he couldn't lie down or sit up properly, he had to bend his fin at the knees and the fold was awkward in the tight, unyielding space. He sloshed around with the water, unable to focus enough to brace himself properly. At least he could concentrate enough to get the gag out of his mouth, but even that took more tries than he would remember.

Actually, all he would really remember when this was over would be the sheer misery. It was a feeling that would stick with him for a long time.

…

"Good morning," Callen looked up as Kensi, tanned and chipper, strolled into their cluster of desks and looked between he and Sam with a general air of satisfaction.

"Looks like someone got lucky while they were away," Sam looked up from his Sudoku with a smirk and Kensi's, shame on her, cheeks flushed a pretty tinge.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," she purred, despite the blush, and rounded her desk to take a seat.

"Are you seeing this G?" Sam waved at her and Callen shook his head disapprovingly and resisted the urge to tsk.

"I am."

"And would I be out of line to state that a trained, nay, highly skilled NCIS undercover operative blushing at the mere hint of hooking up while on vacation is embarrassing to our craft?" Sam's eyebrows went up as he ended his question, just like they always did when he was teasing, without fail.

"No, I do not believe you'd be out of line," Callen shrugged and leaned further back in his chair to assess Kensi as she glared between them.

"I am not blushing!" She denied.

"Like a peach," Sam insisted.

"Right down your neck," Callen chimed in, delighted with the glare he received in turn.

"You're imagining things," she huffed and quickly changed the subject. "Where's Deeks?" she asked and Callen's eyes automatically tracked to his desk.

"Not in yet," he kept his tone even as he said this and noticed Sam's tiny unhappy frown that disappeared almost as soon as it appeared.

"Huh," she glanced briefly at the desk before grabbing for the paperwork in her inbox that had accrued over their five days of actual Christmas vacation where they weren't, miracle of miracles, called in. It was well known that while Deeks tended to not always be at his desk when they arrived, he was generally fifteen minutes early. A quick glance at his watch told him it was already a few minutes past eight. Five minutes later it was Sam who pursed his lips in displeasure and stared at G until he acknowledged the pointed look.

"Deeks pick you up from the airport yesterday?" Callen caved and Kensi's dark eyes snapped up to meet his, clearly understanding his line of questioning.

"No, it was the original plan before I left for Hawaii but I decided I wasn't sure what day I was going to come back so I told him not to worry about it." She was pressing her phone to her ear, clearly having dialed their partners number. Callen watched as her frown grew and she disconnected the call only to try again. A minute later she shook her head. "No answer," she frowned and looked between him and Sam. "Should we get a trace?"

"Yeah," Callen agreed and this time it was Sam who had pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear.

"Eric, I need you to trace Deeks's cell," he demanded.

"Trouble in the water Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked as she glided up beside his desk, her eyes sharp and enquiring behind her glasses and Callen met her eyes before shrugging lightly.

"Not yet."

"But you're feeling concerned all the same," she looked briefly around their desks and her eyes fell on Marty's. "It is unlike Mr. Deeks to be so untimely with the start of his day," she mused, catching up to Callen's concern without needing to be told the details, unless of course she'd somehow been listening in on their entire conversation. That was always very possible.

"It's the Christmas holidays, he could have just over done it," Kensi theorized even as she tried calling his cell phone again and again ended the call with her lips pressed together.

"Trace says he's at home," Eric called out even as he was stomping down the stairs and came to a standstill by Kensi. On a normal day someone would have commented on the orange and yellow plaid button up. On a normal day Deeks would probably be the first to jump because he just couldn't help himself. Callen frowned but before he could ask anything more Eric continued, looking intently at his tablet. "Hasn't made or received any calls in four days…doesn't look like his phone has gone anywhere at all, which is strange. Usually he's all over the place, out early, home late, mostly there long enough to eat and sleep, and tends goes all over the city…" he paused when he realized the looks he was getting from Callen's team. "…which I know because I occasionally check up on my favourite agents well being, _all_, my favourite agents, not just him, because that would be weird and stalkerish…" he shifted on his feet.

"Yeah, tracing all of our cell phones to follow our moves is far less creepy than tracing just one of us," Sam pointed out grumpily before looking at Hetty and Callen. "I don't like it. The last time he didn't show up on time-"

"He was shot," Kensi was already standing and sliding her gun into her hip holster, a determined look on her face and Callen and Sam were not far behind.

"Want me to get LAPD involved?" Eric asked and Callen shook his head.

"No, we'll check it out first, I'll keep you on the comms." He flashed his earpiece at Eric to show he had a headset, shared a grim look with Hetty, and then they were flying to Deeks' apartment, taking the shortest route for expediencies sake.

Callen would be really, really pissed if it turned out that Marty had somehow managed to oversleep his alarm, but at the same time he hoped that was all it was. A lazy Marty could be dealt with, a missing Marty, which was something that happened a little too often for Callen's taste's, was another problem altogether.

True to form when they arrived Marty Deeks was no where to be found.

…

The place looked clean, aside from the typical disarray of living. A casual jacket hanging by the front door had his wallet, cell, and badge in it, untouched as far as they could tell. His back up Berretta was stashed in his bedside table, his service Berretta was locked in his poorly concealed safe in the bottom of his bedroom closet, which was easy to check as Kensi had long ago acquired the code.

There were no dirty dishes in the sink, no empties cluttering the coffee table, his bed was unmade, his laundry stuffed in a hamper, his bathroom was as clean as he remembered seeing it when he took his shift helping Deeks recuperate after being released from the hospital the year before.

There was nothing to immediately indicate a struggle but there was no doubt something was wrong.

"G," Sam called and Callen, taking one last glance around the bathroom, moved back to the living room and right up alongside his partner. Sam pointed at the edge of the small dining table. G spotted the speck of blood Sam had, noticed and it wasn't difficult to see places on the wooden floor where little patches of blood were lightly smeared and left behind from a hasty clean up. Callen took a deep breath and dialed Hetty.

"It looks like he was grabbed."

"_Understood Mr. Callen. I'll dispatch the necessary teams to your location for the initial investigation and we'll go from there."_ He nodded, not caring that she couldn't see, and hung up.

"Time to interview the neighbours," he announced, and forcefully shoved the unease deep down inside. He wasn't allowed to feel concern, not until everything was okay again. "Lets go."

…

"On Christmas Eve Richard Willcock, a neighbour, says he was woken up by a couple of heavy thumps and Marty blasting the volume of his TV," Callen began summarizing out loud for Hetty, Eric and Nell. Beside him Kensi was a ball of tight, stressed energy and behind him Sam was a looming wall of silence. "He yelled at Marty to turn it down, Marty turned it down, yelled that it wouldn't happen again and that was that. Nobody has seen or heard from Deeks since. You guys get anything on video surveillance?" He looked to the techs and Nell grimaced slightly.

"Not much and nothing with clear images. Deeks's building only has one camera overlooking the parking lot. It's old and doesn't give up much more than blurry images but I think it's safe to say it's who we're looking for."

On the large screen the grainy image showed what looked like two men clearly dragging someone between them, and a third someone hunched over, hugging their ribs, shuffling slowly behind. They disappeared off screen in a few steps, their vehicle clearly parked on the road beyond. It was possible it was a group of friends helping a drunk or injured buddy. Callen didn't like the odds.

"And that's the cleaned up image," Eric explained before they got a chance to ask. "We're looking into any suspicious vehicles leaving the area around that time but so far none of the plates we've checked have panned out. There's a surprising number of them considering that it was almost two in the morning on Christmas Eve."

"There's a few churches in the area that probably had midnight mass," Sam gave a possible explanation, "they would probably be more packed than usual," and Eric nodded in understanding.

"Right, the C and E crowd plus the regulars. Got it." He got a look from Nell. "The Christmas and Easter crowd," he elaborated.

"We've got his list of enemies here," Nell threw up the electronic list that they were all more than familiar with after the last time Marty had been shot, "we've added a few names since, but none of them make sense for the snatch and grab. We're gonna keep looking into their whereabouts anyway."

"We also back traced his phone gps," Eric pulled up a map to show a relatively random trace pattern. "Mostly normal stuff: went to a gym, the park, the grocery store, a coffee shop and then home for a few hours, probably had dinner there. Then he went to the beach between ten and eleven thirty, a bit random but maybe he just wanted the peace and quiet, before he visited O'Mallory's, a pub not far from his place. The GPS says he got home around one thirty-five and his phone hasn't moved since."

"Okay, Sam and I will check out O'Mallory's. Kensi, stay here and go over the list of potentials with Nell. Eric, keep looking for the getaway vehicle," he ordered, noting the frown on Eric's face as he kept staring at the posted map. If he spotted anything else unusual he would let Callen know, in the meantime he had work to do.

…

tbc…

Still with me? :D Thanks for sticking around ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three

….

When they finally pinpoint where they _suspect_ Deeks may have been taken it had already been far, far too long. Two weeks too long. They also may have had nowhere near enough evidence (instincts and random happenstance apparently didn't cut it) to ask for a warrant.

Hetty ordered Eric and Callen to infiltrate Masters mansion as 'cable repairmen' anyway. Off the books. They showed up at zero-eight-hundred sharp and never met Masters in person, only his security guard who showed them where all the systems were kept and stood aside, completely uninterested, while they 'fixed' it. Apparently Masters wasn't impressed when he couldn't watch the six-a.m. news or check his blog.

There was absolutely no indication that Marty had ever set foot in the house, or what Masters would want him for, but it was the only lead they could find.

When they got back to the office two hours later Eric disappeared immediately to his domain. He had work to do, the rest of them would have to wait.

….

His estimation of how long it would take to break the wireless encryption to gain access to Masters internal camera feed took less time that he'd anticipated. So much less time that Hetty, Nell and the rest of the team were still down below debriefing before heading up to (no doubt impatiently) demand that he have the information he wanted. So when he gained access to the security footage he didn't waste time letting them know he was done, he just started flipping through the feeds to find (please, please find) Marty.

He found him.

It took him a very (horrifying) long moment to realize it though.

Oh.

Maybe he should have been trying to get more sleep these last few weeks, in a real bed and not the cot he had hidden in the closet down the hall (Callen always had dibs on the couch downstairs). He could forgive himself for his ten seconds of blatant staring at the image on his monitor. He understood what he was seeing instantly (genius, even if he wasn't at quite the level Nell was) but some things…some things needed time to be absorbed. This needed more than the ten seconds he took, but he knew he would get that time later.

After the long seconds of staring passed his higher brain functions clicked in and he literally lunged into action, slamming instructions into his computer to remove the images from the screen (thank god he hadn't had it on the wall monitors). He linked the system he was using to his laptop, transferred the direct connection from Masters security feed to his personal laptop, disconnected said feed from NCIS's system, obliterated every smidgeon of information from the mainframe that could possibly connect to Masters, and, in a nutshell, made it disappear. The connection had never existed. He would ask Nell to search for it later, because if he missed something she would find it and they could eradicate any leftover evidence together.

He gathered his laptop protectively against his chest (he would guard it like a national treasure) and sped out of the room, ignoring the odd looks from the two techs that had been working a few tables down. He didn't run down the stairs, but with his adrenalin so high it was a near thing, and nearly fell over from stopping so abruptly when he reached the team sequestered in their little desk area. He didn't need to whistle for their attention as their conversation stopped the moment he'd started thundering down the stairs. Hetty and Nell were still with them. Good.

"What'd you find Eric?" Callen asked after a tense moment of silence and Eric realized that, despite all the thoughts running rampant through his head he hadn't actually said anything to them yet. He blinked at Callen, panicked a bit, and then really, really hoped he'd read all the people in this little group correctly all these years, otherwise he was going to owe Marty the worlds largest apology in existence and, most likely, one of the craziest prison breaks ever attempted. Or governmental lab breaks, or whatever.

"Are you hungry? I'm starving!" he exclaimed, well aware that he sounded a little too enthusiastic. He tried to tone it down and shifted uneasily on his feet. "What do you say about going out to grab a bite? I think we should all go out, get some food, be together for a bit. Bonding in this time of crises-"

"I think that is an excellent idea Mr. Beal. Perhaps a late lunch will help clear our heads and we can resume our search with fresh eyes," Hetty thankfully stepped in, moving beside him and laying a gentle hand on his elbow. He nearly jerked away, the irrational fear that she'd snatch his computer from him jolting through him. Fortunately he had more control than that. If she'd noticed his muscles tense beneath her hand she didn't comment. "I believe I know just the place."

When he'd joined Callen and his team on a drive to Masters estate only seven hours before Eric never thought his day would turn into possibly the most insane discovery of his lifetime or an impromptu team gathering at Hetty's house.

He was tense and silent in the back seat of Callen's car. Sam, sitting upfront, was trying to appear all relaxed and calm but his massive shoulders looked ready to burst from his shirt they were so clenched. Seriously, anyone who ever thought that Sam didn't like Deeks…well they probably just had less contact with this team than Eric did. Because it was practically impossible for Eric not to see it. Sure at first Sam hadn't been sure whether he wanted to wring Deeks's neck or respect him for being such a challenge, both in the fighting ring and in everyday life. The respect won, and when Deeks got shot the passive aggressive mothering/overprotectiveness joined the respect and just like that Deeks was on Sam's short list of people who could be family. It didn't mean Deeks didn't annoy the crap out of him on a regular basis, but Eric just figured they had a 'special bond.'

Callen was harder to read, always would be, but Eric was ninety-nine percent certain that he'd taken to Deeks almost from the beginning. Hell, Callen had probably started liking the guy just because he gave Sam such a hard time. It may have also helped that that Hetty let it slip that she'd been headhunting him for a while at that point.

Kensi, Eric cut a look to where she was sitting beside him and she pretended that she hadn't just been staring at him, trying to read his mind: too impatient to wait for the safety of Hetty's home but too professional to start demanding an explanation. Kensi had _not_ liked Deeks in the beginning. Like at all. She was generally difficult to get on the good side of, had walls as thick as the great one in China. It took her a lot longer than Sam or Callen to accept Deeks (despite the fact that most people still think Sam hates the guy), especially as her partner (or maybe because of). These past few weeks she had been silently freaking out to the point that Eric was pretty sure he developed a spontaneous ulcer whenever she walked into his space by proxy.

Knowing all this (because he saw more from his perch on high than they realized) he still had no idea how they were going to react to his discovery about Deeks. Eric himself was fast shifting from disbelief to incredulousness to freaking _awesome_! Of course he wouldn't let that last opinion slip until he'd gaged everyone else's reactions. Also, not cool to geek out over a friend currently being tortured, and that knowledge was also painfully rattling around inside him and making him feel, frankly, sick.

When they were all shuffled into Hetty's kitchen, Eric on one side of her shorter than average but still large kitchen island and everyone else staring at him expectantly from the other side, he had another attack of anxiety.

"What did you find Mr. Beal?" Hetty asked softly, eying the laptop he still clutched to his chest. He could still leave, still pretend he didn't find anything, take a huge social hit and backlash from this group of colleagues (friends) and keep all knowledge to himself.

"Eric?" Sam had the most comforting voice in the world when he wanted to, pitched all low and soothing like that it was no wonder women fell all over him even when he wasn't trying for their attention. Eric could still run with his information, keep it to himself and orchestrate his own plan to rescue Deeks. Preserve his secret, which Eric knew instinctively (and obviously) the guy wanted kept.

"Eric." Sam's voice was still soft, Eric would have thought he'd be impatient by now, maybe angry. Eric was awesome, no doubt about it, but breaking Deeks out of that place by himself? He didn't have field training beyond the basics. There's no way he could pull off Marty's rescue alone. He swallowed thickly.

"Okay, okay, I found him and he's in Masters mansion like we thought," he hesitated again, which wasn't like him and the rest of the group seemed to understand that, but Kensi was shifting in agitation now, and Sam and Callen were just staring at him with that calmness that was scary intense. "Okay," he repeated, trying to organize his thoughts. "If I show you this," he jiggled his computer slightly, "I need you to promise that it won't go beyond this room."

"Mr. Beal-"

"I'm serious Hetty," he cut her off, drawing startled looks from everyone and a darkly assessing one from the woman herself. Nell looked back and forth between them with surprised eyes. "It stays between us, only us, not a single other person ever, no matter what. I need your word." He swallowed thickly. "Marty needs your word, okay?"

"You both have my solemn vow," she nodded regally and Eric felt something inside him unclench, just a little. Hetty's word was gospel. He looked around and everyone, though confused and clearly agitated, was nodding as well.

"Show us what you found Eric," Callen ordered and Eric flipped the computer open, calling up the program with the direct feed into Masters security footage. Deeks was still there, still not human, but at least he wasn't being groped by Masters on a table anymore. Instead he pressed up against the wall of a massive tank, banging his fists on the glass and clearly mouthing off despite being surrounded by water. His normally shaggy hair swirled about his head, his massive fishtail (holy shit he still had a fishtail!) swished about where his legs should be, elegantly propelling him back and forth along the glass front as he expressed his agitation. He moved too fluidly to ever be mistaken for simply wearing a fake fin, Eric had seen that easily when he'd had the glimpse of Marty squirming on the examination table, his lower body twisting with more flexibility than knee joints and strait bone allowed for.

Apparently in this room the cameras were set to keep a very close eye on Marty. Eric wondered off hand how many times he'd nearly managed to break out on his own. With pressed lips Eric turned the monitor around so the rest of the team could see. There was a moment of complete silence.

"What is this? Some kind of joke?" Kensi sounded down right dangerous and Eric took an unconscious step back.

"No joke," he confirmed, watching them all carefully. Nell looked startled and he focused on her (he loved watching her), seeing the moment realization sunk in, seeing the acceptance (he knew how to read his girl), understanding why Eric had reacted the way he had, frowning as she contemplated all the things he had (and probably things he hadn't) that could ruin Marty's life if his nature was exposed to the Navy.

"I just want to clarify that we're all seeing the same thing here," Sam couldn't seem to take his eyes off the screen, his brow furrowing and he swallowed thickly. "That's Marty, underwater, with a fishtail."

"That's what we're all seeing," Nell answered after a moment when it became clear everyone else was too absorbed in the security footage on the screen. After a long pause Eric couldn't take the strained silence and moved around to where he could see the screen and everyone in the room.

"So you get why I couldn't just show you this right? You understand why you can't tell anyone?" he waited a beat and no one answered. "Right?" He snapped and startled when a gentle hand rested on his elbow. He looked down at Hetty who was watching him warmly.

"_Nobody_ will be turning Mr. Deeks over to any authority or science." She smiled, maybe a bit grimly, but reassuring all the same and Eric relaxed a little more when Nell moved to stand on his other side, her shoulder brushing his.

"You don't seem too surprised by this," Callen dragged his gaze from the screen to look at Hetty, his blue eyes sharp and clear.

"I have been around for a long time," she said softly and moved closer to the screen, her displeasure easy to see, "and I've heard many things throughout the years; many strange things that seemed too far fetched to ever be real, but sometimes the people telling the stories believed it so deeply it was difficult not to get swept away in the magic. I've never experienced anything like this myself, but I try to keep an open mind, even when it comes to the unbelievable, Mr. Callen."

"I heard stories too," Sam shook his head, still staring intently at the screen. Eric wasn't sure if he was still watching Deeks swim angrily back and forth, or if he was checking out the room in their line of sight. Making his own assessments. Eric wondered if he'd figured out what the metal table off to the side was for yet. "A few SEALs got lost at sea about eight years ago when their chopper went down in a storm. Nobody could find them, they were presumed dead, and then six days after they'd disappeared their life raft was almost literally run over by the ship they'd deployed from, thirty-eight miles away from where they'd crashed and up current. They were nearly dead from dehydration, there were no paddles in the raft, no way they could have swam the raft against the current to the ship or even know where the ship was, but they still got there, somehow." He shook his head and leaned closer to the computer. "Two of the guys swore on their lives that a mermaid showed up that morning and hauled their sorry assess to safety. They were the only two still conscious and it was logged as hallucinations but, even after they recovered, they kept insisting. I never really believed it, but never really doubted it either." The 'never saw this coming' didn't need to be said but he was accepting this so calmly Eric stopped worrying about his reaction. Sam was solid.

"It is often believed that myths originate from truth," Hetty looked pinched around her eyes as she watched the screen. "I can understand why beings like Marty choose for their nature to be shrouded in secrecy, to hide even from those they are closest too, but that is a discussion for another time. Right now we need to decide what our next course of action will be."

"Something's happening," Sam announced and everyone snapped their heads around to the screen, unease souring up Eric's spine as a man in a suit walked onto the screen, stopped, and shook his head at Marty. Marty gave him the finger before going back to pounding on the glass, the copper and gold in his tail shimmering as the tanks built in light followed him. The man in the suit shook his head and a moment later the security guard that had let Eric and Callen into the house for the cable repair walked towards the tank, up a set of stairs on it's side and around to its back. There must have been a platform they couldn't see from this angle as he appeared waist level with the top of the tank and was lifting some kind of hatch out of the way. That was when they saw the stick in his hand.

Marty apparently knew what was coming the moment the guy approached his cage as he swam down to the bottom of the tank, his fins splayed out wide and hands clenched tightly as he glared up to the surface.

"Oh my god," Kensi said quietly and for a moment Eric was confused as to why, when the guard above the tank lowered the stick into the water. It was a shock baton.

The reaction was instantaneous: Marty's body seized in spasm, his arms pulling in tight to his sides, his hands claw shaped, his back arching, and then it stopped almost as soon as it started. Marty was left floating belly up in suspension in the middle of the tank, his arms and neck limp, his long tail drooping down and unnaturally still. He began sinking through the water. Someone in the room sucked in a sharp breath as Eric stared frozenly at the screen, waiting. It must have only been five seconds but it felt like an eternity before Marty's entire body jerked sharply and he came back to himself with frantic speed. He wasted no time twisting and with a flick of his powerful looking tail he was pressing into the very bottom of the tank, right into the corner. At this angle it was a bit more difficult to make him out, but he clearly pulled his fin to his chest in the classic fetal position, wrapped his arms around the glimmering scales, and tucked his head away from the man still standing in the room watching him. The shock had been warning enough, and Marty was apparently done fighting for the moment. Eric swallowed, wondering if he should mention the table incident he'd witnessed when Callen turned dark, furiously blue eyes on Hetty.

"We're going in tonight," he announced, his voice thick with rage that he wasn't making any attempt to mask. Beside him Sam looked just as scary in his utter stillness as he continued to watch Marty on the screen.

"Of course Mr. Callen," Hetty didn't look remotely upset by this idea, her game face on and set like stone. "I'd expect nothing less. Let's get planning."

….


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four

….

"Callen," Nell called softly as the team was gearing up in Hetty's office. He looked up to find her and Eric standing tensely by the open French doors that separated the room from the hallway. He finished connecting the Velcro on his Kevlar vest in place and swiftly moved to them.

"Masters has been…examining Marty," Eric said, disgust clear though he tried to keep it under wraps, "and recording it. You need to find these recordings."

Jesus. Callen nodded sharply in understanding and Nell held out a black memory stick.

"We know all his homes internal computers are linked, as well as the security feed. Find any port and plug this in and it'll wipe out everything it's linked up to. You won't need to worry about anything but the air conditioning fritzing out."

"And bring it back, if possible," Eric chimed in, watching as Callen pushed it deep into his pants pocket. "Less evidence the better and all that."

"Right. Anything else?"

"Don't leave them in once piece," Eric snarled, his anger so foreign on him that it nearly took Callen by surprise, but out of everyone Eric had seen the most of what had been happening to Marty, had clearly seen something just as bad if not worse than the electrocution. In response Callen curled his lip in a mean little smile and turned back to the group to do a final check on his weapons before sliding them into place.

"Ready?" he asked and everyone nodded, moving wordlessly out to the untraceable black minivan Hetty 'found' and he Kensi and Sam piled in. Darkness had started falling an hour ago and it was a two-hour drive to Masters estate. By the time they arrived it would be just past midnight and dark enough with the moon at the end of its wane that their approach, so long as they managed to avoid the security cameras, would be hidden.

"Bring him here," Hetty stopped Sam from sliding the vehicles the side door and Callen looked over the front seat to watch her looking intently at Sam, her dark eyes piercing in the garage's light. "Do not let him convince you to pull over and stretch his legs, do not let him sit by an unlocked door, do not allow him out of your sight. Bring him here first." She repeated softly and Sam, after a moment, nodded his understanding and was allowed to slide the door shut. Moments later they were gone with Hetty's message ringing loud and clear in their minds.

Deeks was a major flight risk, he couldn't trust anyone right now, would probably panic and act on instinct and try to get away, even from them. Deeks was street smart and tricky, a smooth talker and an expert at misleading people into false security. If Deeks managed to get out of their sight chances were they would _never_ see him again. He would disappear, whether he wanted to or not he would leave to protect himself. They needed a chance to convince him he didn't have to run, but they wouldn't get that chance if they couldn't even get him home.

The ride to Masters estate was one of the most silent and charged mission preps any of them had ever been involved in.

….

A shuffle, a sliding side step, beats of impatience and fingers resting gently over triggers, waiting. When the motion sensors and security camera's are shut down everything is fair game, just like when they went for Hetty, but different for so many reasons.

Soft steady steps lead them inside, Sam at point, Callen just behind and Kensi covering them, like a well-oiled machine. They clear rooms with silent, confident precision, hand signals pushing them forward through the house as Sam carefully listens to Nell's directions in his ear. Taking out the guards is easy. He doesn't hold back, but doesn't kill them, not so far in his rage that murder will ever be an option and well aware that his advanced training means that killing anyone at this point will most likely be from choice instead of circumstance. It's still a near thing when they breach the room that Deeks is being held in though.

He does fire his weapon then, putting a nice, neat bullet through the shoulder of the guard standing up above the tank. He was once again threatening Deeks with the shock baton, making him swim back and forth in his small tank for his 'owners' viewing pleasure. Putting on a good show. Sam could only imagine the way Deeks must feel to be turned into an attraction, like an animal at a zoo. Deeks was playing along though, not having a choice, but it was clear to Sam the moment he entered the room and took in the situation that what was happening now was far from the worst of it.

The cry of pain as the guard fell sent a feral shiver of pleasure down Sam's spine. The cries of Masters and his wife as they leapt off the couch in front of Deeks's cage just made him angrier. The two scrambled to straighten their clothing, the woman holding her blouse closed and Masters mustered a voice of authority and demanded to know what was going on. Sam took in the sight and wondered, when it took Callen a moment longer than was normal to make the next order, if his partner was just as close to shooting them as Sam was. Rage on behalf of family was a potent thing and they were all skilled enough to take these people out permanently and never be caught.

Instead Callen ordered Kensi to take the two out of the room. When Masters protested, furious as he buckled his belt back up, Kensi stepped forward and pistol-whipped him across the face with such force he fell crashing to his knees. They didn't protest after that. Sam wasted no time charging up the stairs along the side of the tank, grabbing the still groaning guard by the back of his suit jacket and dragging him roughly down the metal stairs and halfway across the room. He'd passed out from the pain before they hit the bottom.

"Sam," Callen said softly and Sam paused briefly in wrapping the generic flexi-cuffs around the mans slack wrists (no need for a surprise when they were distracted later, even if he was weaponless). Callen's eyes (the only feature really visible beneath the black balaclavas covering their faces) were cold and focused on the tank and Sam looked sharply over to see what the problem was. It wasn't so much a problem as it was a warning to be prepared; Deeks had wasted no time utilizing their distraction, no doubt waiting for such a chance for the last few weeks now, and had somehow managed to open the grating locking him in the tank. Sam and Callen watched as the very tip of his massive golden-bronze fin disappeared from the water. With a quick move Sam finished securing the unresponsive guard even as he heard the gentle thump of a body trying to remain quiet hit the metal platform at the back of the tank.

Sam surged to his feet, his weapon already tucked back into his holster, and moved gingerly across the space, fully intending to help Marty. The thing he tends to forget about Marty is that the shaggy hair, scruff, wide eyes and never ending bad jokes do not actually mean he's innocent or harmless.

"Hey, hey take it easy," he calls out as soon as he rounds on the flimsy looking staircase and Marty, water still dripping heavily down his face and body (pale, Sam noted, he was too damn pale), looks down at him sharply from the top. Obviously unable to stand because of his lack of legs he was at a great disadvantage for moving around. He seemed to be trying to make up for it by pulling himself along the roughly grated platform, his fingers wrapping solidly around the railings for aid. They stood at a stalemate for a long second, Sam keeping eye contact which was made easier because the mans fishtail was still mostly obscured by tank and unable to distract him. He felt rather than heard Callen move up just behind him, a silent supporter and Marty's gaze shifted briefly to him. He was assessing, Sam knew it, but then Marty's eyes went all wide and scared so quickly that his urge to help overwrote common sense.

Marty, in obvious fear and shock from his imprisonment and finding his way down the stairs blocked, apparently decided the best method of escape was to try and drag himself under the railing and over the edge of the platform right where he was instead. It was a six foot fall.

"Shit," Callen huffed under his breath and as one he and Sam moved to catch Marty's headlong dive to the floor. It was mostly controlled, so it was safe to say that Marty wasn't really trying to hurt himself, but it would have been a painful blow if he landed poorly. Luckily Sam and Callen were fast and Sam was able to just get under him to wrap his gloved hands around Marty's shoulders. Marty reached out automatically and clung to Sam's own arms before twisting bodily. His skin was slippery though, slick from the water and something more making Sam's grasp rather tenuous and Callen stepped in and wrapped his arms around Marty's lower torso just in time to help lower his heavy body to the ground.

"Relax Marty, we've got you," Callen reassured around a huff of air as they set him down. Marty froze the moment he was down and Sam pulled his hands away from where they now supported him under his armpits. Callen gently unwrapped his own arms from around Deeks and paused a moment, a weird look briefly crossing his face before he very carefully twisted his arms and awkwardly pulled the limb that was pinned under Deeks's body away. "Sorry if that caught," he grimaced and looked like he was about to steady himself from his crouch on Marty's hip before remembering that being touched right now was probably not something their friend was in favour of.

Of course that was when the click of a safety being unlatched on a gun was heard in the silence and Sam looked down to see said gun being pointed at him with a very steady hand.

"Back off," Marty ordered, his voice raspier and quieter than usual and Sam slowly held his hands out to show that he wasn't a threat as both he and Callen shuffled a few feet away on their knees. A quick check to his hip told Sam that yes, it was his own gun that Marty now held against them. The safety was off but Marty's finger was not resting over the trigger.

"Easy now, you know we're here to help," Callen explained reasonably, his hands also held up.

"Stay there," Marty said by way of acknowledgement and then, using his free arm, he turned slightly onto his side and began dragging himself away from them, keeping the gun up and at the ready. Sam couldn't stop himself from looking anymore, taking in the way the muscles beneath the unfamiliar flesh flexed, the way the delicate looking fin on the side of Marty's hip, travelling almost down to where his knees would normally be, seemed to flex and shudder with his movements. He noticed how he pulled his entire fin up towards his pale (too pale) body, bending where it normally would at his knees, and then used it as a leverage point to shove himself further away from them. The end of his tail flopped with the movement but for the most part stayed flat to the ground, like the moisture in it was weighing it down and making it stick to the tiles. It didn't look comfortable. Sam looked back at the minutely flaring fin on his hip, the shifting copper-gold scales were more muted than he imagined they should be, a foggy dark grey speckled throughout and then fading to a more translucent shade between where the spines supported it. He realized that if Marty had one fin on this side of his hip than he must have one on his other side: the side that was currently scraping along the ground.

"Come on man," Sam tried to keep the worry out of his tone, "you're hurting yourself," he pointed out the obvious. Marty narrowed his eyes at them as he finally reached the wall and propped his back up against it, the muscles in his torso flexing with the effort.

"Don't want to damage the goods huh?" he said bitterly and Sam took a calming breath. The door on the far side of the room clicked open and Kensi's familiar tread strolled in, pausing after only a few meters as she took in the scene. Marty's gaze flicked to her briefly, the uncertainty and weariness flashing for a second before being shut away behind that icy gaze again.

"You know we don't want to see you hurt," Callen rebuked and this time Marty out right laughed, nothing friendly in the tone as he pushed his dripping bangs off his forehead and rotated his sharp gaze between the three of them, his eyes barely acknowledging the trussed up, bleeding, unconscious guard off to their side.

"I don't really know anything," he rebutted and Sam shook his head and slowly lowered his hand towards his face, which immediately got Marty's full attention.

"Marty, it's _us_" he argued and pulled the mask off, letting Marty see him, but Marty just smiled blandly.

"Yeah, aside from recognizing your voices it's kind of hard to not recognize those pythons," his eyes flicked briefly to Sam's arms and then torso, covered in tight black material and Kevlar but. Behind them Kensi slowly approached and Deeks cast her an uneasy glance.

"So you knew it was us-"

"As soon as you marched through the doors, yeah," Deeks agreed, shifting slightly, his fin still limp and plastered unnaturally to the floor, all folded in on itself for protection. He didn't look healthy.

"And your panicked header off the platform was just a rouse for the gun." Callen looked like he wanted to be impressed, if he wasn't so bothered by it.

"Sorry," Deeks shrugged, barely hiding a grimace at the movement. He finally relaxed his arm a little, letting his elbow rest on his hip, taking the strain off his arm as he kept the gun directed at them. Up close they were all able to see things they hadn't been able to on the camera: the very thin webs between his fingers, the deep bruising around his wrists, rubbed raw in one or two places, strips of skin that were red and puffy across his chest, waist and neck, the faded black eye, a section on his upper thigh that looked like some of the very fine scales had been ripped from his body. The rigid set of his shoulders, the way he held himself unnaturally still, how he pressed one arm tightly to his side, the mottled track marks up the inside of said arm...this was only the start of it, only the most obvious of damages. Sam breathed deeply to control his temper. Deeks didn't need to see it right now.

"Why?" Kensi finally asked, sounding more unsure than any of them had ever heard and Marty's eye twitched. A tell. Sam relaxed slightly and knew, beside him, that Callen had as well. There was a long stretch of silence.

"I appreciate the save," he finally said, no longer really meeting their eyes and the gun finally began to tremble from the strain of holding it up so long. His finger was still stretched straight, not touching the trigger. It was an empty threat, they all knew it, had as soon as Sam had backed off, but he didn't think Deeks was ready to let it go yet. Sam knew he wouldn't be if their places were reversed. "But you guys should get going now, I've got it from here," he threw on an earnest smile, one that Sam had seen so many times before. It looked just as real now as it always had and that was unsettling. Very unsettling given the situation before them.

"You're kidding, right?" Sam narrowed his eyes and Deeks's cool blue moved to meet his gaze, but it didn't hold nearly as long as usual. "What, you're gonna wait until we're gone and then walk out of here on your own?"

"Don't worry about my method," he snapped and breathed deeply to settle his nerves. "Look, I understand what this must look like to you, and I get why you can't just let me go," Marty's voice cracked a bit from whatever it was he was feeling just then. "But seriously, I would really, really appreciate it if you would just get up, walk out of here, and pretend none of this ever happened." His gun hand was shaking noticeably now.

"That's not happening Marty," Callen said softly and Marty seemed to shrink in on himself. Sam shot Callen a dirty look and Callen glared right back even as he continued talking. "Look we know that this…this," he gestured where Marty's legs should have been and Marty twitched in response, "is really…unique. But if you honestly think that we came here to get you only to turn you back over to the Navy or turn some kind of profit, than" Callen looked genuinely lost for a moment before his usual cool came back over him, "than I don't know what you've been doing with us these last few years." He finished. Deeks just stared at him.

"Unique?" He finally said into the silence and Sam couldn't help but agree, frowning at Callen.

"Really? That's the best you could come up with?" Sam asked his partner and G's look clearly dared him to do better.

"Seriously, I'm half fish flopping around here like a luau's main course! Unique doesn't even begin to cover it and you think I'm going to just believe that you guys are 'cool' with this, that you're cool having a _freaky-_"

"Enough!" Kensi finally snapped from behind, just beating Sam and Callen to the punch but looking pissed as she pulled her own mask off her head and glared down at Marty. "You, shut-up and give Sam his gun back," there was a groan from the guard and she swiftly turned and kicked him in the head, sending him right back under. "Then we are going to all get out of here, together," she said loudly to halt Deeks's oncoming protest, "and get somewhere safe so that we can talk this out like the adults that we all are!"

Sam looked back at Marty, who was loosing his calm mask slowly, his eyes flashing more uncertainly between them now. After another moment, he slipped the safety back in place and slid the gun across the floor to Sam. None of them missed the grimace of pain that he quickly tried to conceal.

"So what's the plan," the bravado was thick in his tone, "we march out of here and they forget all about me?" he nodded at the downed guard, eyes now lingering a moment, darkening.

"Something like that," Kensi finally tucked her own gun back into its holster, her eyes drifting to the tank and Deeks's automatically following. It was nothing but a big glass box filled with water, a sky blue coloured background, and harsh lights illuminating the entire space. No privacy, no place to hide. Sam and Callen kept their eyes on Marty, seeing him swallow, and glance away.

"Okay, then lets go already. I've had enough of this place," the bravado was back, his gaze falling back to Sam and Callen expectantly. Callen frowned, hesitated, and then his eye crinkled minutely, telling Sam that he was irritated with himself.

"Can you transform your legs back or is this a long term thing?" he gestured to Marty's fishtail, no discomfort in his tone and Marty seemed to take it in stride, shaking his head.

"No legs for now."

"Then I'm going to have to carry you out," Sam decided, pulling his mask back on. Deeks looked back at him sharply, before forcing his body to relax.

"Sure." He agreed, too easily.

"One more thing," Callen pulled out his handcuffs and Deeks tensed right back up. "We need to make it look like we're forcing you to go with us. We'll take them off as soon as we're in the van, I swear to you Marty," he promised, as sincere as he ever got. It wasn't hard to see Deeks didn't fully believe that promise, but he held out his bruised wrists as permission.

Callen could hide his discomfort from Deeks and Kensi, but not from Sam as he ever so gently closed the cuffs around bruised wrists, keeping them as loose as he could. Deeks looked to Sam then.

"You going to toss me over the shoulder or-" Sam didn't let him finish, moving in and carefully maneuvering an arm under his fin, and around his back. Instantly he felt the delicate lump of what must have been a dorsal like fin running up his spine, now understanding G's hesitancy while putting him down earlier. He figured Marty would tell him to ease up if the pressure of his arm hurt him. "Okay," Marty sounded a bit strangled, his breathing becoming slightly shallower and Sam stood with him carefully wrapped in his arms, not wanting to stall incase Marty decided to change his mind. "I don't want any jokes about carrying me over the threshold," he ordered and Sam just smirked behind his mask.

"Careful," Callen warned, looking to where Marty's fin still scraped the ground. Marty automatically curled it up. "No, you need to appear unconscious as we leave. I'll keep it from dragging. Kensi, you've got the lead." Callen moved beside Sam and grasped Marty's tail, careful to keep it off the ground. Marty did his part by closing his eyes, flopping his head to the side, and having his cuffed wrists hang limply away from his and Sam's body, easily visible as they passed by a very securely bound Masters and his wife. Where the mans eyes had been defiant before they were clearly terrified now, or at least what could be seen of them beneath their swelling were terrified. There were no doubt bruises beneath his shirt as well, maybe a fractured rib or two to help instill that fear. Men like Masters were great at dolling out the pain but had no idea how to react when it was turned on them. Kensi had done a good job.

Deeks was like a furnace in his arms, the water that hadn't evaporated from his body soaked into Sam's clothes and Kevlar with no hesitation. He flexed his arms to adjust the heavy weight, glad that G was helping with the tail because Deeks, like this, was heavier than Sam remembered from the last time he'd hauled him around. He flexed his fingers where they splayed over Marty's fin, the flesh felt tougher than skin but soft and heated through his thin gloves. He didn't know if that surprised him or not; he didn't have time to think on it.

The moment they stepped outside Marty tensed up again, his slow steady breaths becoming shallower once more and Sam shared a look with Callen.

"Marty," Callen asked softly and Marty instantly opened his eyes, zeroing in on him. "Can you keep your tail tucked up now? There's something I need to take care of inside." Marty nodded, hesitated, and then turned into Sam's chest, rolling his body and using the new angle to curve the bottom of his tail away from the ground. Not saying anything he tucked his face into Sam's neck. Sam swallowed thickly and looked at G, who stared a moment and then turned silently back to the house.

Kensi led the way down the driveway, through the gates and a hundred meters down the road to where they'd stashed the van off to the side and out of site. She looked back every five steps or so, but Sam couldn't see the look on her face. When they reached the car she jumped in the back and jimmied the seat behind the driver to go as far back as it could before helping Deeks into the vehicle.

It was awkward, but they managed. Deeks immediately tried to curl up and away from them the moment he was situated.

"Hey, forgetting something?" Sam asked and Marty looked at him, blinking in the interior light when he held up the keys to the cuffs. He seemed surprised but tried to hide it. He hesitated a moment and then held out his wrists, pulling back quickly when the metal was gone. Sam glared at him. "We're not going to hurt you Marty," and then softer, because Marty was very much not in his normal frame of mind, "we've got your back."

Two muffled gunshots were heard from the direction of the house.

"Status," Sam demanded immediately, all three of them tensing.

"Just redecorating," Callen replied dryly in his ear. "ETA one minute." Kensi relayed the information to Marty, who leaned his seat back to almost horizontal, dragged himself higher onto it, and pulled the blanket she handed him over his body. The interior light blinked out.

"So, how long before," she gestured at his legs and Marty was back to acting all nonchalant as he tried to find a comfortable way to sit with his fin. It looked almost ghostly in the dark.

"My legs come back?" He finished for her with a teasing tone that was designed to mislead. "No idea," he fiddled with the blanket, trying to hide more of himself and look casual about it. "Normally it takes an hour or so out of the water before I can shift. I've never…been in this form so long, could take longer now."

"You okay Marty?" She asked and Sam wanted to cringe, but waited intently for the answer all the same.

"Sure. I'm better now," Sam imagined that he was pulling one of his misleading smiles over his lips, but couldn't really tell in the dark. Sam dug a sweatshirt out of the bag between the seats and tossed it at him. He folded it up to use as a pillow.

When Callen showed up only seconds later his shoes squelched with each step and when he got into the drivers seat Sam could see that his lower legs were soaking wet as the interior light flashed on. He didn't need to clarify for anyone that the bullets had been for the tank, despite the fact that this time they wouldn't have minded shooting the people, at least somewhere not vital.

Deeks ended up curling most of his body onto the seat but the bottom half of his fin drooped onto the floor regardless, peeking out from beneath the blanket he buried himself under. Beside him Kensi seemed at a loss for what to do, curling herself into her own seat to prevent accidentally stepping on his delicate looking flesh. Without another word they left Masters and the estate of horror behind.

….

Tbc.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews so far!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Five

…..

The ride back to Hetty's was silent and by the time they pulled into her garage Marty still hadn't changed back. Hetty, Eric and Nell were waiting in the doorway that separated the garage's interior from her home and Callen shook his head at their greeting party when they looked to him. They made no move towards the car as the garage door rolled closed, blocking out the distant threat of early morning light.

"Deeks, we're here," Kensi said and he popped his now dry head out from beneath the blanket and looked around.

"Great, that's great," he enthused, coming across as relieved and unsure. "I'm just going to stay here for a bit, if that's all right with you guys? Get my land legs back and all before facing the inquisition."

"Take the time you need Marty, we're not going to jump you the second you're inside." Callen declared and as one the three of them exited the van and moved into the houses interior, lightly shutting the door behind them to give him some privacy.

"How is he? Is he okay?" Eric was practically vibrating with worry and too much caffeine and Sam sent them off with Callen to the kitchen to debrief them. Hetty looked back at him with approval as he parked himself right beside the door to the garage, listening carefully.

It wasn't more than fifteen minutes later when he heard the very soft sound of the van door sliding open and no louder warning sound of it sliding shut (there was a reason they'd closed all the doors in departure). Sam listened for another moment before pushing the door open and looking into the lit garage. Deeks snapped his head around quickly as soon as he did, his eyes wide and guilty for before a lopsided smirk covered it up.

"You draw straws to get to see who waited for me?"

"No," Sam answered bluntly. Marty seemed at a loss for words for a second before rallying.

"I'm touched." Marty was already dressed in the spare sweats and hoodie they'd brought for him, his feet bare on the cold concrete floor, and he sauntered over to the door on slightly unsteady legs; making like he hadn't just been trying to figure out how to quietly open the garages main door and slip outside without so much as a goodbye. Sam held his door wider silently and Marty stepped by him, careful to not make any physical contact not meeting his eyes.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he rounded into the kitchen and every pair of tired eyes settled on him. His slouch immediately straightened out and Sam stayed behind him, just incase he decided to run after all. There was a long moment of silence where nobody seemed to know what to do or say, when Hetty moved forward and slowly, carefully, took one of Deeks's stiff hands between both her own.

"It is very good to have you back with us Mr. Deeks, safe and where you belong," she implored with that quiet confidence that nobody ever questioned. Marty, apparently, still wasn't sure what to make of anything so he simply nodded and tried for a smile that hid his uncertainty. It was slipping more than before: he must be exhausted. Hetty, of course, understood this implicitly. Sam watched with quiet pride as she gestured at the massive tea set on the center of her kitchens island, steam trickling from its spout. "Perhaps a cup of tea before we all get some rest. It has been a long night."

"Not to sound ungrateful or anything," Marty glanced around them, not really meeting any of their eyes, "but don't you need to be at the office in a few hours? Not really the time for tea, is it?" His voice still sounded rough, raspy, like it burned to talk. Sam hid his hands behind his back as they clenched tightly.

"It is always time for tea Mr. Deeks, especially a nice rooibos blend, and we have the day off barring any disasters that cannot be handled by the other teams," she finished by gesturing for him to take a seat but, not surprisingly, he slowly moved to the other side of the island instead, creating a bit of distance and remaining on his feet despite still looking slightly unsteady on them. Land legs. Sam wondered how long it took to get used to walking again.

Eric wasted no time pouring them all cups, the delicate china always feeling so small in his hands as Sam dutifully picked it up and took a drink. Marty watched him, then Kensi and Nell take sips before picking up his own, curling his hands around the tiny thing as if to absorb the warmth before chugging it back in two solid gulps. One of the things the team had learned about him early on was that he'd never had a problem drinking things practically off the boil. Now was no different. Hetty, as always, seemed torn between being pleased and offended, which Marty seemed to take in and he relaxed, slightly, at her quirked lips.

"More?" Callen asked, already picking up the pot and gesturing, not giving Marty a chance to fill it himself as they could all see the tremor he was trying to hide in his hands.

"Yeah," Marty put his cup down and rolled his shoulders minutely. "Missed the warm beverages, you know? My hosts weren't very attentive to guest comforts," he smirked, opening up the floor for questions, pushing like he usually did even if it was clear he didn't want to. He wrapped his fingers around the cup again, this time holding it like a shield before him.

"Your _hosts_," Kensi decided with a sneer, "will be suffering their own discomforts for a few months to come."

"I don't know if that makes me feel better or terrifies me," Marty grimaced, the deep colouring under his eyes all too clear for them to see even with the kitchen light on low. He looked almost sickly pale, like being in captivity for two weeks was the equivalent of being out of the sun for a year.

"Don't worry about them," Callen said darkly and forced Marty to meet his gaze before continuing, "they won't ever get their hands on you again." Marty swallowed thickly, his adams-apple bobbing before he simply looked away, focusing on the massive kitchen window leading outside, the light of breaking dawn more insistent than ever.

"So what now?" He echoed his question from earlier that morning but lacking the same bravado. He seemed to realize this and tossed back his second cup of tea to try and cover it up.

"Now we rest," Hetty ordered and placed her cup down. Stepping off her high bar stool she motioned for Deeks to follow. Callen gave the rest of the group a look to say he'd be back in a minute, and followed them as well. Sam put his cup down on the counter, rested his hands on the cool granite edge, bowed his head and breathed deep. Now they just had to wait and see.

…..

Callen followed, making his footsteps intentionally louder so Marty would know he was joining them. They didn't go far, Hetty assuming that Marty would feel safer on a ground floor, one where, should he choose, he could easily climb out a window to get away. Callen could see the tenseness in her posture as she opened the door to the spare bedroom, gesturing Marty in gently. You didn't have to be a psych major to see that Marty was skittish, moving cautiously, his eyes wandering sharply to take in his surroundings, noting exits, noting possible weapons. Normal for an agent, but not normally so obvious. Callen wasn't surprised by this but it was worrying all the same. Marty's gaze was instantly drawn to the large window on the far side of the room and he immediately tried to pretend that he wasn't planning on climbing out of it the first chance he got.

Hetty was very good at hiding how she felt about this, but Callen liked to think that even though she was shrouded in mysteries there were some things she couldn't hide from him. He folded his arms and leaned in the doorway as Deeks took in the tidy space, the double bed with unusually thick duvets for this climate, the mass of pillows, the bare dresser, loaded bookshelf and door to the on suite. He'd already put the bed between them but Callen wasn't sure if that was a conscious move on his part or not.

"I will leave you to your rest," she announced and Marty looked back at her quickly and nodded.

"Yeah," he shuffled slightly on his feet, "listen Hetty, I just wanted to say thanks, for all this" he tagged on and gestured around. "I could go back to my place-" he hedged but didn't look surprised when she shook her head.

"I regret to point out that your home is no longer a safe haven Mr. Deeks, its location has been compromised."

"Yeah," he sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, moving slowly because his muscles were no doubt aching. Callen had had more than enough chances to see the deep bruising. "I just don't want to be in the way," he shrugged.

"You are _never_ in the way Mr. Deeks," she said as softly and passionately as Callen had ever heard. "And you will never be in the way, certainly not mine. I understand that you are not very familiar with having people who care for you, who worry about you, and in light of recent developments I will not even pretend to understand how difficult it must be to trust people other than yourself." She paused a moment, letting that sink in as Deeks watched her intently. "What I truly hope you understand is that, while your secret intrigues me, I have only ever seen you for the bright, confident, loyal man that you have proven yourself to be. A friend and perhaps, one day, family. Whatever path you choose it will be your choice, not ours, and my home will always be open to you." They stood watching each other for long moments, Marty searching her face intently for any hint of a lie.

"Okay," he said softly, telling her he heard what she said even if he's still conflicted.

"Get some rest," she replied kindly. "It has been a trying time." She rested her hand gently on Callen's elbow as she passed him at the door. "There is a first aid kit under the bathroom sink," she murmured and squeezed before releasing him and moving down the hallway.

"So," Marty said after a minute, still not moving out from behind the bed. "You my guard for the day?"

"No guard unless you want one," Callen remained leaning causally, thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his black pants. Unthreatening. "We needed to get you out, get you here, and make sure you were safe. You can leave, anytime you want, and you don't need to crawl out the window to get away." Marty grinned slightly at that but only a little humour made it into his eyes.

"Got another pep talk for me?"

"You still need one after that?" Callen asked softly, nodding to where Hetty had disappeared. Deeks just looked overwhelmed. Beyond endurance. Whether he acknowledged it to himself or not he was feeling safer here with them and his body was finally telling him to get the rest it needed. "Do us a favour? At least stick around for a bit and rest up before you make any decisions?"

"Yeah, okay. Least I can do," he shrugged like it was no big deal, like he wasn't agreeing to remain in place long enough for the authorities, should they call them, to come and drag him away.

"Want help patching yourself up? There's a kit under the sink," he left the option for aid firmly in Deeks's corner but he wasn't willing to leave the man alone until he understood that they were aware he was injured. Mostly superficial from what Callen could tell, but when Marty had dragged himself along the metal grating and then the floor to get away from them earlier he hadn't done his one pelvic fin any good, scraping it raw and open. Callen didn't know if injury transferred when Marty got his legs back but judging by the tiny dark dots of blood standing out on the gray sweats (he was pretty sure that was the area where it had looked like his scales had been ripped out) chances were good he had a sizable oozing scrape along the side of his thigh.

"I'm good," Callen wasn't surprised by the answer but he would respect it, even if it went against his instincts to check his teammate for injuries himself.

"There're some painkillers in there to," Callen was pretty familiar with that particular kit and this particular room. He'd had occasion to frequent it himself over the years, particularly during his recovery from his shooting. "Eric grabbed some spare changes of clothes from your place, they should be in the dresser. If you change your mind about needing a hand I'll be in the living room." Marty nodded and Callen slowly shut the door, giving him privacy. When he made it back to the kitchen Hetty and Sam were the only ones left.

"He'll get a few hours of sleep before he leaves," he nodded as Sam passed him his still full teacup. "Still can't read if he'll come back or not."

"He'll come back," Hetty said grimly, like there were no other options and Callen didn't have the energy to be the voice of negativity at this point. "I've heard the basic debrief but I understand you have more to add," she pursed her lips in command more than question and Callen slid tiredly onto the stool closest to him. It had been a long few weeks and despite the dangerous part being finished it wasn't quite over yet. He shook his head and took a breath to control his anger.

"I needed to be sure Kensi sold the story," he was unapologetic about this and he knew Sam and Hetty understood. "Masters and his wife were pretty terrified, he tried to get me to reveal who the new proprietor for Deeks was, like he's some kind of thing you can own. They're positive we grabbed him on intel from Klaus and believe we're probably at the border by now, on our way to some rich collector in Argentina. He tried to negotiate a new price," and Callen wasn't sure what, about this entire situation, disgusted him more but that was right at the top of the list. It made him so furious he had literally been speechless at the time. "He won't be going to the police for obvious reasons and we didn't leave any bodies to have to investigate and, if Masters is smart, he'll call in his personal physicians for the gunshot wound. Unless they walk across Marty on the job, which is unlikely due to their very infrequent trips to the city, they're out of the picture."

"I do believe Eric and Nell are planning to discourage their interest in other ways as well," Hetty pondered.

"I can foresee bankruptcy in their future," Sam grinned darkly then they fell into silence for long while slowly drinking their tea, before Sam sighed and pulled out a small, bland memory stick and placed it on the table before them. "Kensi convinced the wife to tell her where all their documentation of Deeks was kept. Eric and Nell are double checking that the virus they built is wiping out every electronic system in their home, including their security feed records. Unless they have printed images of Deeks there are no images of him left in that place."

"Don't worry about any DNA trace either," Hetty declared softly. "It's being taken care of as we speak." Callen nodded, not concerned: Hetty was very good at making things like DNA disappear. Sam sighed and looked at the storage device again.

"That's the video footage Eric said they took of Deeks. Far as we know it's the only copy; they kept it in the bedroom safe." Callen felt as disgusted by this as Sam and Hetty looked. There wasn't anything any of them had to say about it, and Hetty carefully reached out and took it. She met Callen's gaze solemnly. The two of them would watch it later: they couldn't help Deeks if they didn't know what he'd suffered through.

"Well then, I suggest the two of you try and get some rest. I have some work I need to finish," her laptop was primed and at the ready on her dining room table. They needed sleep before they discussed anything more deeply, and they needed to see if Deeks was going to stick around, or disappear into the safety of anonymity somewhere far, far away.

Neither of them bothered going to the last unoccupied bedroom in the large home, instead parking it on the two couches in the living room. Being open concept they wouldn't miss anybody walking through. Hetty pretended not to watch them knowingly and Sam glared at him when Callen beat him to the bigger couch and stretched out. Sam curled up on the smaller one with a huff and promptly dropped off to sleep. Callen did not envy that ability at all.

Just before noon rolled around the near silent sound of softly treading feet moved cautiously up the hallway. Callen opened his eyes and turned his head to watch as Marty moved into sight. He'd showered, not shaved, and was wearing too many layers of clothing for the heat outside. He froze when he saw Callen watching him, his gaze darting towards the front door and back again, his shoulders squaring, preparing to defend himself. Callen just watched him with tired, hooded eyes, not making any move towards him. Marty looked just beyond him to where Sam lay, back to Callen and then made a hesitant move to the front door. He'd fulfilled his promise and slept before deciding to leave but he still didn't truly believe that Callen was just going to let him walk out the door.

Callen wondered if he'd start believing it when he was a block away.

The front door clicked quietly behind him, out of sight from the living room. Callen looked over to see Sam practically scowling in its direction before uncurling from the couch and heading off in the direction of Marty's room. Kensi stepped out from the kitchen's pantry, a can of baked beans in hand, still looking worried and uncertain; she hadn't figured out quite how to feel about Marty yet. Marty was unexpected, Marty was now an unknown and Marty would have to tread carefully around her until they figured out where they stood as partners again.

Callen left the couch, meeting her eyes reassuringly. He needed to find Hetty: they had some amateur film to view.

…..

It was late when Marty scaled the ivy covered fence and slipped into the immaculate back yard. He landed softly, the grass cushioning his weight, and remained crouched as he looked around. It was dark with the exception of the scenically placed podlights set into the stone around the pool and patio. They cast a beautiful shimmer along the pools still surface, illuminating the deep, faux-natural blue liner even as they made the gardens and trees surrounding them seem darker and more sinister somehow. Shaking his head at himself he stood from his crouch and moved across the lawn. The majority of lights were off in the house, the kitchen light being one exception. He didn't see anyone in there and he turned his back on it to flop indelicately onto one of Hetty's ridiculously comfortable pool chairs.

His body ached fiercely, a combination of the past few weeks pains with the added bonus of spending most of the day flipping between running flat out until he was too tired to keep going and walking while he recovered. He hadn't stopped moving, he'd needed the space, the distance, the chance to push his body until he could barely think beyond the hammering in his heart and the burning in his chest and legs. Now, his clothes were soaked with sweat but his mind was at least a little calmer, a little more capable of compartmentalizing the hell that had been his life the last while and what it meant now that people knew about him; now that his team knew about him. They had saved him and let him go.

There was a metaphor here, one that he thought was supposed to sum up everything they'd done for him, what it meant to him and how he kind of knew he was fucked but that everything was sort of okay regardless. He was sure it was a great metaphor. He was also just a sure that he was full of fear and unease, which was kind of the norm for him, so whatever. Deal.

The exhaustion though, it sucked beyond words, made everything hazy and hard to follow and he figured that if there was one thing, one clear thought that made sense to him through the fog, than there must be something to it. His clear thought had been the directions back here, like a freaking google map flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinked. It hadn't been nearly as hard to follow that map than he'd imagined it would be.

He didn't startle as Hetty quietly sat on the deckchair beside his. He kept his gaze focused on the gently illuminated water in front of him, breathing steadily and feeling his heart beat in every bruise on his body, in the cracked and oozing scrape on his thigh. They sat for a long time in the silence.

"I had expected you to come through the front door," she finally said softly, thoughtful. Marty smiled and closed his eyes, leaning back on the chair and finally relaxing. He could do this. For once in his life, he could truly try and do this. It still took him a few false starts before he found his voice.

"Story time," he stated more then asked but couldn't keep the nerves out of his tone. This wasn't just about an abusive past, this was about his uncertain present.

"Only if you wish," the unspoken _we'll be here for you regardless_ was touching enough and he had to take a moment to clear his throat.

"My dad wasn't a saint," he started, lips pulling into a humourless smile. "Not many people are but he really wasn't, as you know. It's not uncommon, bastards beating up on children, fathers hating their sons until their sons are forced to shoot them just to survive, but it wasn't always like that for us." He felt a sort of detachment settle over him, one that was different from the times he had to disassociate himself from the world, from his time with Masters. He wasn't sure if it was because he felt safe, or he was just too damn tired to care anymore. He wasn't sure it mattered.

"See, the thing is my dad was human. Not a prime example of humanity but human all the same and mom…not so much. He didn't know that about her though, had no idea what she was keeping from him and neither did I. She," he paused, thinking, remembering things he usually tried not to. "The doctors diagnosed her with sever postpartum depression after I was born. They weren't wrong, just not completely right. She had difficulty accepting me so dad took care of me."

She had started spending time longer and longer away from home, was distant when she was around, had taken to drinking and sleeping a lot and his dad, failing to get her to go to the doctor and get help had turned his efforts to Marty. He made sure he played with him, made him his meals, tucked him in at night, real hallmark stuff. Those memories ached deep inside. "When I was about seven I was having a bath and I…just changed. I screamed, he came running in and he screamed for mom and mom just…she just looked at me sadly and sighed, like she was sorry, like she had been waiting for this to happen-" even now he didn't understand the look that had come over her face; it changed in his memories as his mood suited and he only had an echo of an understanding of it now. There were some things even growing up couldn't explain.

"She used to be merfolk; apparently there's an entire kind of society out there in the deep or something. Transforming into landwalkers wasn't super uncommon but she got knocked-up by a human, which was apparently not only taboo but flipped some switch in her body and took away her ability to shift. She'd never planned on being human forever, dad had never planned on knocking up a fish and" and Marty was the lucky hybrid who suddenly had a mother who blamed him for being stuck on land and a father who couldn't stand to look at him to the point where he decided swinging his fists was more productive than simply abandoning him. Eventually he decided that putting Marty down was a better option as well, but by that point Marty had developed a thick skin and a definite will to not be murdered by his own blood. Or anyone really. Sometimes Marty's nightmares weren't about almost being killed by his father but about his lack of guilt over shooting him first.

"And I learned how to be something other than me. This is the first time I've slipped up." He hoped she understood what he was saying. Behind them Callen finally moved out of the shadows where he had been lurking. Marty kept his eyes closed but quirked his lips in acknowledgment as the team leader parked it at the foot of Hetty's chair, her short legs not needing the extra room.

"Why now?" Callen wanted to know and Marty understood that what Hetty and Callen didn't want to hear was that Marty had been a depressed, self-involved idiot who had once again grown lax in his personal surroundings due to the ease of familiarity. The holiday's always made him morose, but this time everything had just seemed overwhelming. Still, he'd cleared his head enough this day to think clearly and if he was going to try and make this work he figured honesty was the way to go. It had often been pointed out that he was an overachiever and not always in a good way.

"Mom never really told me much beyond the basics: merfolk are anti-social with the human world but when the mood struck they could shift tail to legs and wander around on the dirt. Like a vacation," for some reason he'd always hated her for being so flippant about it. "But contact with the ocean water triggered some kind of primal instinct and they always shifted back even if they didn't want to. Unless they got knocked up by a human; then they're pretty much stuck on land forever," and after he'd turned she'd never really let him hear the end of it, her bitterness and longing for a home she could never return to all consuming.

"You're in the ocean all the time," Callen pointed out and here Deeks smirked lazily, a distant twinge of victory rolling through him.

"I _knew_ you spied on me when we weren't on duty," he made sure his humour was clear. He was well aware of Callen (and Sam's) overprotective nature. He'd never really minded before, it had almost made him feel like he mattered to someone whenever he spotted Callen sitting in his car in the beach parking lot while Deeks bobbed on his board, water all around. Maybe one day he'd tell them his eyesight was a bit better than average as well, but not now.

"Its not spying if I just happened to be in the same area you were on our days off." Callen sounded amused more than defensive and Marty's lips curled up.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that you stalker." Deeks knew Callen also watched out for everyone else on the team, his natural restlessness and need to do something productive made that a given. Plus Deeks had taken it as a challenge to tail Callen, Sam and Kensi and had seen evidence of his protectiveness first hand. Deeks shifted, his muscles begging to settle into that deep ache that would eventually make him regret his taste of freedom that day, but only a little.

"To answer your observation: I'm a hybrid. I'll never be sought out or accepted by her people because of some pretentious pureblood bullshit, but my human half apparently gives me more control over my shifts than the purebloods could ever have. I can spend hours in the water and not change unless I want to. Of course there's always that breaking point, and once I hit it there's no getting my legs back until I'm dry again, and even then it takes a long time." Too long usually, because Marty generally loved swimming but the vulnerability of being stuck in fish form while on dry land wasn't always worth it. Plus he was kind of an impatient guy. "Then again drugs seem to take that control away altogether. You light me up and apparently all it takes is a bucket or two of water" and a table that you're strapped to like a violent, mentally disturbed criminal, "and presto: instant tunaman."

"Tell us why you were caught out Marty," Callen repeated the original question, gentle and demanding and Deeks rolled his eyes under his closed lids. Freaking impatient.

"I tend to avoid shifting, it's too dangerous, but I'm still half fish and it gets to a point where my body just demands it. If I don't than I basically start getting a little more…difficult than usual," first he would become jittery and annoying, then moody, then his body began to thrum with impatient energy that no amount of time in the gym or running could assuage and his skin would begin to feel tight and thinking rationally would become more difficult and eventually instinct would drag him to the water. "Basically I hit a point where instinct demands a swim, and I stretched that point beyond reason this last time. I was too impatient to be as careful as I should have and was spotted. Simple as that."

"There is nothing simple about that Mr. Deeks," He could hear the disapproving frown in Hetty's voice and shrugged in response. It was what it was. "Can changing into your waterform alleviate these pains?" He couldn't help stiffening a bit defensively at her perceptiveness and tried to play his nerves off by shrugging. The movement pulled at his aching ribs.

"Yeah, sure. Changing prolongs the urges, I've got a bath at home for that reason."

"But?" Callen hedged and Deeks pressed his lips together before exhaling slowly.

"But sitting in a saltwater tub and shifting doesn't let me swim. Sometimes I need to swim, simple as that." There, he'd said it and eyed the pool. The last few weeks in a tank didn't count as swimming. Honestly he felt sicker for it, shaky and greasy under his skin. He'd always thought captivity in any form would eventually kill him, but now he truly understood, felt it deep inside. Half a year locked in a cage, despite how well they handled his care and feeding, and he would wither away. In that regards merfolk were not as resilient as humans.

"Then we'll just have to watch your back when you need to let loose," Callen said, like it was as simple as that. Maybe to him it was, and Marty didn't know how to feel about that. He'd had enough though, didn't want to discuss it anymore and they seemed to know that he was done for the night.

It turned out that they'd left the room Marty had stayed in that morning the same, all the bedding piled up in the far corner from the door, pillows lining the walls like the nest a child would make.

This time when Marty fell asleep, exhausted and not so close to the edge of his sanity, he actually managed five solid hours before the nightmares woke him up. Exhaustion, it turned out, was good for something.


	7. Chapter 7

WARNING: sexual abuse heavily implied. Violence.

Chapter six

They sat in her home office, mid afternoon sunlight trying to filter through the pale curtains Callen had drawn closed, just the two of them. Hetty had wanted to do this alone and Callen understood, but he also wasn't going to allow it: Deeks was his team, his friend and his responsibility. He needed to be able to understand how he might react to things in the field after what he had suffered, and try to find a way to help him. Hetty said he was looking for a way to punish himself for not finding Marty sooner, for not killing Masters outright, and she might be right, but she was also wrong. Callen wasn't a stranger to trauma, if anyone could help Marty through this he could.

It had still made him feel ill as he sat beside Hetty and together they had activated the footage Masters had taken of Deeks. He wished he could say he was shocked by the inhuman treatment, the callousness, the degradation of his friend as he watched video screen. He wished he didn't know how flawed humanity could sometimes be.

"_Does he still have a penis?"_ Evelyn Masters was giddy with excitement as she and her husband circled were Marty was strapped to the table and trying to ignore them. That question got his attention though, tired blue eyes opening wide to stare at her incredulously.

"_Of course he does, it's just tucked inside for protection, like a whale or a crocodile. Look here,"_ he reached out and pressed a finger to the sleek shimmering fin and Marty's entire body jerked.

"_Hey, boundary issues!" _he snapped, his voice hoarse from yelling, arguing, pleading. Masters didn't acknowledge he'd spoken, continuing with an almost tutorial air as he leaned over Marty.

"_You can barely make out the slit into the pocket that houses him but if you press-"_

"_Get the fuck away from me!" _their friends voice cracked and he jerked so sharply on his restraints he reopened a wound that began to trickle blood along his wrist. _"What the hell is wrong with you freaks! Don't touch me!"_

"_Oh,"_ Evelyn seemed intrigued, her eyes almost glassy as she looked at her husband in question, _"can we see it? I want to see it."_

Hetty reached out and slammed the lid to the computer down with a snap and the room settled into thick silence. After a long moment she exhaled very slowly before breathing in deeply through her nose and repeated the process for a long while. Callen began counting backwards from a hundred in his head, in Russian.

"I believe we have seen enough," she announced, her voice steady and clipped. Callen nodded. They had seen enough, enough pain and humiliation to last a lifetime. Callen didn't know what was worse: being sexually assaulted; being strapped down and studied; being dragged from the large tank and sat on a commode in the middle of the room every time he needed to use the toilet so he didn't pollute his breathing water; being used as entertainment; being treated like a pet; being completely ignored…

"Jesus," he muttered and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands over the back of his bowed head. He'd seen things like this before; not the non-human thing but the torture, the humiliation, the terror and complete lack of disregard for another being, for life. Tragically it was something that happened to people every day of every race, age and gender. It had never happened so completely to a friend of his before though, and compartmentalizing that, being able to find a distance to help deal with the horror of it, was different. It always hurt to come across, but this time it twisted deeper.

"Jesus," he repeated after a moment. "I should have killed them," it came out more of a whisper but he felt the rage deep within. He could still do it, kill them, and make it look like an accident, or a home invasion gone wrong.

"Maybe," Hetty said softly beside him and lay a warm hand on his shoulder, "but it would not have changed the past." She turned silent a long moment before opening the screen and closing the program before anymore footage could play out. "Perhaps once Marty has been back for a while we can revisit this discussion, but I do not believe it will come to that." Callen nodded, he didn't think it would either. They took lives in their line of work, killed and were killed to the point where Callen sometimes worried about his dwindling levels of remorse, but he still believed in the law, in the higher power of justice, in not murdering someone out of anger and the need for vengeance (even if the rage almost physically pulled him to react). That kind of thing could destroy a person.

"I think I'll have Eric destroy this," she plucked the memory stick from its home. There were days worth of footage to still view, "and then I believe its shell would make an excellent target at the range."

It turned out they never needed to revisit this conversation again. It remained strictly between Hetty and Callen, one more dark secret never aired and Marty, not even in his darker moments, ever mentioned to them a wish for vengence.

One and a half years later, after their entire financial wealth had unexpectedly gone down the drain, bankruptcy and foreclosures ruining them, a few embarrassing video's being linked onto the internet and humiliating them in the business world proved too much for Alexander Masters. He cracked, publicly claiming that it was the mermans fault, that he'd been cursed by a sea devil, that if they would just find the Argentinian he would get his creature back and prove to the world he wasn't a failure or a fraud. He had been shipped to a secure psychiatric hospital that was tight lipped about their treatment but that assured the world they were doing everything they could to help him. They had no idea how long it would take to help him enough to be released, if ever.

His wife Evelyn moved back into her parents trailer across the country and became their caregiver as they aged. She never remarried.

…

Two days after they got him back Marty sat alone at the massive island bar hunched over a bowl of cereal. It was his favourite brand, the crunchy sugary goodness rolling over his taste buds like a little bit of heaven. He was just glad that he was able to taste the sweetness at all. He'd never considered what being submersed in saltwater for an extended period of time would do to his tastebuds, and he still hadn't regained the ability to enjoy anything but the strongest flavours.

His next spoonful paused halfway to his mouth when the front door opened and closed and heavy, unusually heavy, footsteps started heading his way. After a moment of quashed jumpiness he scolded himself for being such a coward and finished shoveling the food into his mouth just as Sam entered the large, open concept room. The big guy moved right for him, no longer bothering to make his steps loud enough to be heard now that Marty had a direct line of sight. Marty appreciated the effort and smiled a big milky grin at him before shoving another spoonful into his already full mouth.

"I can't believe you eat that crap," Sam grumbled and moved to the coffee maker, noted it was empty, and leaned against the counter instead to face Marty with crossed arms. Marty couldn't help staring at the bulging muscles. Seriously, the man was built like a tank on steroids. If Marty had been able to pretty much hold his own in a fight against _that_ then how the hell had he ever let three stooges grab him from the familiarity of his own home in the first place?

"You'd believe easier if you gave it a try," he said around the mouthful, distracting himself from his thoughts, and Sam just looked more disgusted.

"This body is a temple, feeding it that would be a crime to religions everywhere."

"More for me," Marty shrugged and then frowned as a thought came to him. "How did Hetty even know I liked this stuff? I can't see her having Chocolate Flakes sitting beside the Wheaties and Bran in her cupboard."

"Seriously?" Sam raised and eyebrow and Marty narrowed his eyes. "You had three boxes in your kitchen, it was an easy guess." Oh, right…the kitchen he wasn't allowed to go back to anymore due to fears of compromise. Nodding he looked back down at his cereal and tried to regain his uncaring façade; it was annoying how easily it slipped these days. "Along with the skittle stash, the pop tarts and the chocolate-peanut butter sandwich spread. How the hell do you stay in shape eating all that sugar?" It was a throw away remark meant to distract and Marty had to chuckle to himself even though he didn't know why that was funny. He looked up and, bingo, Sam had that tiny little furrow between his eyes that meant he was worried about something. Namely: Deeks. Marty hadn't seen that look since he'd been going through PT after getting shot and Sam had shown up to every session to egg him on.

"Jogging on the beach, surfing, and trying to avoid hand to hand combat training with Kensi. Keeps me burning calories all day." He contemplated having another bowl of cereal even though he was full and glared halfheartedly when Sam, apparently reading his mind, snapped the box away and tucked it back in the cupboard. He couldn't help freezing when Sam had gotten close but was able to brush it off quick enough that Sam may have not noticed. Then again the telltale moment of silence reminded Marty that Sam didn't miss much of anything, which was really inconvenient at times.

"Yeah well you're going to be burning more calories unpacking your stuff this afternoon." That got Marty's attention right quick.

"My stuff? Explain."

"Your stuff, as in the things that you own that Callen, Kensi and I have packed up and discreetly moved out of your apartment and into G's place for the time being. That stuff." That…Marty actually hadn't really thought that far ahead in his plans yet but that was-

"Hold on, Callen's place?" Something in his chest squirmed at the idea and, strangely, he wasn't sure if it was in a good or uncomfortable way.

"Yeah, he's got the spare rooms and the space. We figured it'd do for now, until you find another place."

"You mean until you don't think I'm a flight risk anymore" he snapped and immediately regretted it. He hadn't meant to say that and, if anything, that pissed him off more. He took a breath to try and control the flare of temper. Sam watched him silently, clearly waiting a moment until Marty had calmed down before slowly shaking his head.

"I mean until you feel up to finding your own place again. It's not easy finding the right place to live around here that's affordable and inconspicuous, and it's even harder when you're trying to sort yourself out. No sense in rushing it and Hetty's place is nice and all but…" he trailed off and smirked a little. Deeks thought about the glass cabinets full of rare collectable teapots and china, the elegant and slightly more mature style of decorating, and the katana series hanging on display. Actually those were pretty cool, it was the one in the umbrella stand by the door that concerned him. Point being that Hetty's place was awesome, but it was also…Hetty's. The idea of staying here was a bit unnerving, no matter how much he liked and respected her.

Staying at Sam's was out of the question for obvious reasons. Kensi didn't have a spare room and, even if things between them weren't a little bit stressed right now, they both liked their space too much for him to live on the couch. That pretty much left Callen, unless he got a hotel room somewhere, which made him uncomfortable in ways he didn't care to think about. He hated hotels.

He drank the chocolaty milk from the bottom of his bowl and tried not to think about how much he'd liked his old apartment, how long it had taken to feel comfortable there, to make it his own. Everything was in box's now and-

"Hold on, you three packed my stuff?" Three trained investigator's whom he'd only invited into his home under the duress of healing bullet wounds, had gone through all of his belongings. People he _knew_ had gone through _all_ of his belongings. Shit, if he had managed to retain a single secret about himself after everything this new fact cemented the notion that his privacy was pretty much toast now.

"Yeah," Sam's tone was unnervingly understanding as he agreed, watching Marty with that careful gentle way he adopted when he was trying to be supportive. "Don't worry, we put Kensi in the kitchen and living room. G and I took the bedroom and bathroom." Marty could only shake his head at this. At least he knew his porn collection hadn't been seen by Kensi, he just hoped the guys hadn't rifled through it too deeply. He didn't need all his kinks exposed. Sam didn't seem to care either way as he just smirked with the typical amount of teasing and pulled away from the counter. He kept a more than reasonable distance between Marty and himself as he moved to the living room and parked it on the couch. "If you want to pack up what you've got here we should get going. Hetty needs you back in the office tomorrow or she's gonna start having difficulty with the cover story."

"Yeah, sure," the relief he felt at that was almost embarrassing but he moved as ordered, needing the distraction, needing something to focus his time on. He moved stiffly, his damaged and then overworked body almost unbearably sore as he moved to get the few items he'd gathered the last two days together and straightened the room as best he could. When he came back to the kitchen it was to find a bottle of extra strength muscle relaxant, an unopened bottle of water on the table and Sam pointedly ignoring him as he watched the news.

If Marty's hand shook while he picked up the water nobody would know but him.

…

He went back to work the next morning, grateful for the distraction and wearing long sleeves to cover the crusted over wounds on his wrists. The official story was that he had been deep undercover. People believed it because Hetty said so and Vance, trusting her, backed her up.

It helped that Callen and Sam glared at everyone who so much as looked at Marty and his visible injuries too long. Kensi, despite being more defensive and awkward around Deeks, had taken to smiling like a predator ready to gut people that spent more than a minute talking to him about things not work related. Eric and Nell were surprisingly normal about the whole affair, which was a relief.

Marty, for his part, liked to pretend that none of it had happened. If he flinched when somebody brushed against him accidentally he made a joke about cooties. If he accepted coffees prepared and brought to him from the break room and then failed to even pretend to drink it. He doesn't do it intentionally and tries to hide that he has trouble accepting food and drinks he didn't prepare himself, and is maybe just a little stupidly grateful when nobody points it out.

Life, as it does, moved on. Except that now people _knew_ and he was still waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Three weeks after being liberated he started to feel the itch build beneath his skin. The urge was familiar, instinctive, and he'd been fighting it since he'd first shifted and his mom had sort of half ass explained (around a mug of tequila) that even though he wasn't 'pure' his body needed to change once in a while. Of course she had slurred a lot while explaining, and gone off on tangents about how even a mistaken hybrid had the option to shift while she was stuck landbound after bad decisions and hormones that got the better of her.

At least she had stuck around (physically if not emotionally) until he turned legally of age, fulfilling her parental obligations of being there and in home (keeping him from the foster system) while his father rot away in jail after trying to kill them both. Marty hadn't been surprised when the police had shown up at his door on the morning of his eighteenth birthday to inform him that his mother had passed on. Their best guess was that she got drunk on the beach and passed out in the waves, drowning sometime in the night. He'd known better. He'd known she had most likely been sober (for once), had stripped off the clothes 'land-dwellers' found so necessary, and walked out into the ocean until she couldn't touch bottom. Then she had swum, and when it was deep she had dove down too far to make it back to the surface even when the desperation to breathe became overwhelming. She simply hadn't been able to outswim the current that eventually washed her body back ashore. She would have been pissed to know the ocean didn't even claim her in the end.

Most of what he knew about himself was trial and error.

When the urge to swim started to scratch beneath his skin the ocean became a huge, distracting playground begging for him to join it. Mainly his other form just needed to be 'let out' to exercise. He became antsy, full of energy, more talkative, less able to remain still and quiet. In other words he became a huge pain in the ass, which apparently wasn't that much different from his normal everyday. Soaking in his tub had helped cut the edge back, a preemptive strike, though it was often uncomfortable and just lying there with no distractions made him more aware than ever of his freak status. Callen didn't have a tub.

Regardless he thought he had been hiding his 'situation' well. Except apparently he wasn't.

"You know," Kensi started (four weeks after coming back to work), pausing to take a delaying drink from her coffee and shifting in the passenger seat. Marty looked over at her and waited, fingers tapping a rhythm out on the steering wheel absently. She pursed her lips, her nose did that cute little twitch when she was feeling out of sorts, and it wasn't difficult to figure out where this topic was headed. He couldn't help tensing. Somehow everyone had managed to bring his freakiness up in some way or another, trying in their own way to let him know that they weren't about to slice him into sushi, that they had his back. Everyone except Kensi.

Nope, he and Kensi had not talked about it at all. It was almost epic the way they'd managed to completely avoid any topic of conversation surrounding his 'condition' up to and including: fish, water, beach, bathing, surfing, abductions, restraints, living with Callen, signing Eric's vintage Aquaman collectors figurine (which dropped its monetary value to penny's but Eric had beamed at him for the rest of the week so he figured it was fine), beating the crap out of deserving people, and salt. That was just scratching the surface. Basically they spent a lot of time not talking, and he could admit that, of everything, this was possibly one of the hardest parts about being back on the job. He missed his Kensi. If anyone had suggested two short years ago that one day he would have an entire group of people (let alone one) that would know about his secret and that he hadn't disappeared off the face of the earth the moment he got the chance, he wouldn't have believed it. Being attached was dangerous but he was discovering that now that he was finally getting a taste of it, it was hard to let go.

"I have a tub at my place," she finally gushed out and he blinked. He had forgotten she'd been trying to say something. She wasn't looking at him though, her eyes focused intently on the entrance to the car dealership they were staking out. He didn't know what to say to that, and swallowed thickly a few times to try and figure it out.

"Uhhh-" yep, that sounded about right.

"Look, I don't even have to be there, I can get you a copy of my key, we can arrange a time and you can just go and have a –a soak or something," she looked uncomfortable and he felt uncomfortable, but she took a deep breath and finally turned to stare at him with her dark eyes. "It's not big or anything, just a standard size, but it's better than nothing and I can't exactly set up a kids pool in the living room so it's the best I can offer."

For a moment he was actually struck dumb and then, because he was an idiot, he spoke without permission from his brain.

"We're talking about this now?" she narrowed her eyes and turned back to look out the windshield, upset. "No, no it's not that I'm not grateful," he rushed to explain and she looked back at him impatiently. "It's just, I, you really want me in your place when I'm…like that?" Yeah, he'd left his brain at the office today, but apparently he said something right because now she just looked a little confused.

"What do you mean? I wouldn't offer if I wasn't comfortable with you in my home. You've been there before."

"Yeah, but before I wasn't…before I was still just a normal, albeit stunningly attractive, guy. You don't have to pretend to be comfortable around me now just because everyone else is," she was frowning heavily at him and his mind started yelling _abort! abort!_ He shut his mouth and waited as she continued to frown, before her eyes widened and now she looked hurt and, shit, he just didn't know what to say to fix things.

"You think I'm not comfortable with you because you…because you're a merman?" she lowered her voice at the end, as though the kids skateboarding in the dealerships parking lot would somehow over hear them above the noise they were making. He shrugged and picked at his t-shirts hem.

"It has crossed my mind that things have been…tense between us and finding out that the guy you've been partnered with for the past two years is not exactly human might be a contributing factor." He felt like a kid. How did Kensi do that to him?

"Look," she was genuinely upset and she turned more bodily to face him. "I'll admit that I was never a fan the The Little Mermaid as a kid, okay? I thought she whined too much, people living under the water was stupid and impractical and I could never understand how they were so deep underwater but could still see everything around them clearly." He leaned back a little at her intensity. "And yeah, I'm maybe a little upset you didn't trust me enough to tell me, but I also understand why you didn't and I even understand why you still don't want to really talk with any of us about it. Or show us who you are. But seeing you at that place," and here she twisted back sharply to face forward once again and glared out the window, her jaw working. "You were…there are no words for what you are and yeah, that scared me, but to see you shoved in that tank, like a play thing while they…I can't stop seeing you _contained_, okay? It is hard for me to not think about what you went through, what you are still going through, when I'm with you and if that has somehow made you think that I am uncomfortable with _you _than I am sorry, but you are an idiot." She crossed her arms and snapped her mouth shut and if he hadn't known what to say before he definitely didn't know what to say now.

For the first time since he'd been grabbed, he smiled.

"Thank you," his voice absolutely did not crack at the end of that and he cleared it quickly, "but I've seen your bathtub and I don't think I could fit my legs in there one at a time let alone over a hundred pounds of scaly muscled perfection," it was easier to joke about than he expected and, thankfully, startled an indignant laugh out of her.

"I think it has less to do with the size of my tub and more to do with your eating habits."

"What's with everyone ragging on me about my diet lately? Have you no shame? Never attack a mans weight like that, he could be sensitive."

"Says the man who once told me I should wear more black."

"What? You look dangerous in black! I can't help it if that's hot." And click. Something he had been missing shifted into place and he grabbed his coffee from its holder and took a drink to wet his suddenly parched throat. When she didn't answer he looked back to find her watching him drink but she looked away as soon as he caught her. He looked at the nearly cold coffee in his hand, realized that she had brought it for him from her coffee run earlier even though she didn't think he would drink it. It wasn't laced with anything except sugar and, after a hesitation now that he was actively thinking about it, he took another drink and they settled into silence. That was until he remembered an insight from earlier.

"Who doesn't like the Little Mermaid? I thought that was a staple favourite for little girls across the globe."

"I preferred Thunder Cats," she shrugged and her lips twitched as she pretended to be more interested in doing her job than in him, "much more believable."

…

Tbc.

Up next: epilogue.


	8. Chapter 8

Epilogue

Five weeks back on the job and Marty was getting ready to climb the walls, day and night. He was probably driving G crazy, but when they were at his place off hours the guy just gave him this accepting sort of look and ignored how he bounced; or he rolled his eyes; or he made him clean the house from top to bottom; or made him take Monty out for his second run that day. Marty found that quiet acceptance more stabilizing than he thought he would and though he would be loathe to admit it he slept better than he had in a very long time knowing that G had his back.

Point being his skin was beginning to crawl with being denied change for so long, which had him actively avoiding large bodies of water as much as possible. So of course today they would have chased a suspect through a classy hotel and out into its pool area. Its very large pool filled with very many people. Marty noted it in the way he always noted his surroundings and focused on his task as he and their very large person of interest came to a stand still at the edge of the water, with a hostage. Great. Marty drew his weapon and aimed, eyeing the knife pressed to the hostages chest and the big beefy arm that was wrapped around his throat to hold him in place.

"Okay, okay take it easy there Bobby," Deeks didn't have a clear shot and Bobby knew this. Bobby also thought Kensi and Deeks were the only ones chasing him and was keeping a close eye on Kensi as she slowly approached him from the side, her own weapon drawn and looking fierce. "No need to hurt anybody else today," Deeks tried to soothe but was apparently having an off day as Bobby's eyes narrowed and his knife pressed deeper into the guys chest. Behind them the hostage's girlfriend cried loudly.

"Shut up!" Bobby snapped. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Of course not," Deeks kind of maybe scoffed at him, "and your just giving this guy a nice friendly bear hug, right? Tell you what, drop the knife, let the guy go and we can try and sort this thing out back at the office without anyone else getting hurt." Now the hostage's face was turning red as Bobby's arm tightened around his throat, his eyes wide and pleading even as he remained relatively calm, which was more than Deeks could have hoped for given the circumstances. He watched as Kensi stopped her approach, a clear sign that she had a shot if absolutely necessary but, with the hostage in the way she most likely didn't want to have to make it.

"So you can lock me away without hearing my side of the story? I don't think so!" Bobby growled back.

"I can guarantee we want to hear your side of the story big guy," Deeks insisted, pulling out his sincere eyes and, making a quick decision, he slowly re-holstered his weapon and held out his hands unthreateningly. Off to the side Kensi didn't so much as twitch. "But if you hurt anyone else things are going to get a whole lot more complicated for you and none of us want that, so just let the guy go and we can talk about this man to man, all right?" Bobby stared at him, debating for a moment, and pulled the blade away from his hostage. Then, in a move that was actually sadly predictable, he shoved the hostage right at Marty. More like threw him actually, he was pretty sure the kid got some air under his feet.

Everything kind of happened in a blur then. Kensi yelled his name just as Sam, from out of nowhere, was literally fly tackling Bobby into a pile of deckchairs and Marty, unable to catch the hundred and seventy pound college kid being bowled into him, went ass backwards over the pool ledge and both of them crashed into the water.

Cool, wet, welcoming, he was almost overwhelmed by the sensation before a flailing elbow bashed into his shoulder and he dragged his body's traitorous urges back under control. Grabbing the kid who apparently didn't know how to swim he hauled him up and breached the surface with a gasp, pushing the guy to the edge where he quickly scrambled out and went straight into his girlfriends hysterical arms.

Marty quickly took in the mass of people staring at him in curiosity from all around the pool, at Bobby who was now lying on his stomach with cuffs locking his hands behind his back, and at Callen and Sam who were both standing tense and ready, weapons still in hand when they should have been holstered by now and watching the crowd with scarily blank faces.

"Deeks," Kensi was kneeling at the pool edge, one hand resting on the butt of her own holstered gun, ready to draw it at a moments notice and suddenly it hit him like a two-by-four: they were ready to protect him, just in case he shifted in front of all these people, and that winded him more than the hit. "Deeks, you okay?" The tension in her tone let him know exactly what she was demanding even though she could clearly see he still had his legs. He wasn't that far gone that he would lose control just yet, but with a little pang of guilt he realized that they wouldn't know that. How could they?

"Yeah, fine," he finally pulled himself back together enough to let the overwhelming sense of 'protected' pass him by. "Mr. Navy SEAL isn't the only one who knows how to swim you know. I have it on good authority that I am an ace in the water, just ask my surfing buddies." At that both Sam and Callen tucked their guns away and turned their back on the crowd to look down at him and Kensi.

"Get out of the water Deeks, before I begin to think you're trying to take a vacation," Callen ordered, his lips twitching and Marty, smiling, held out his hands to where Kensi and Sam loomed above him.

"Help?"

"Are you kidding? You can climb out of there like everyone else," Kensi glared down at him, her ponytail flopping over one shoulder, but she was still tense and trying to look him over to make sure he was really okay.

"But I'm not like everyone else," he pointed out with a shit eating grin. "I'm your partner."

"You're more of a parasite," Sam grumbled but he reached out with a hand and Marty grabbed onto its solid warmth. Kensi huffed and held out her own, before quickly pulling it back and glaring warningly at him.

"If you pull me in there I will drown you," she threatened. Marty stared at her incredulously, then Callen barked a laugh and Sam grinned and Kensi was smiling as she finally gave him a hand and the two of them heaved Marty out of the pool with less difficulty that he figured they should have had. He stood on the pool deck, already beginning to roll back and forth on his heels as the water soaked his skin and teased him mercilessly.

"Man, I hate chlorine," he grumbled and did not acknowledging the look his three partners shared as he dripped all over Bobby before hauling him up to his feet. "Why did you have to go and do that Bobby? Now things just got a whole lot more complicated for you."

By the time the day finally came to a close he was ready to crawl out of his own body. He needed to swim, he couldn't put it off anymore. He'd have to wait until it was dark enough that nobody would see him sneak into and then crawl out of the ocean. It hadn't worked out so well last time but there was nothing he could do about it.

So of course when he and Callen were supposed to be driving home at the end of the day (Marty's car was in the shop, another reason he would need to visit a beach closer to the city), he was understandably surprised and wary when he turned to Hetty's neck of the woods instead.

"Now I know you're not lost," Marty frowned at Callen in the drivers seat, "and I can only guess that there is a reason we're going back to the dragons den, but do you think you could give me a heads up about what to expect?"

"An intervention," Callen said with a grin and Marty might normally have been worried, but just that afternoon this man had been prepared to pull his weapon on civilians for him. On top of everything else he could safely say that he trusted Callen not to screw him over at this point. Still, that didn't mean he wasn't nervous as hell when they finally rolled into Hetty's driveway and stepped.

"Ah, Mr. Deeks, Mr. Callen, it is nice to have you both back here once again," she greeted warmly from the front entrance and Marty just smiled weakly before following her into the house. Kensi was in the kitchen, beer in hand, and she quickly got one for both of them, handing the cold bottle over with a gentle smile for Marty. He was definitely not going to freak out here. Not freaking out one bit.

"Okay, I'll bite: what's going on and why am I the only one who doesn't know?"

"It is nothing sinister I assure you Mr. Deeks, and there is no point in delaying any longer. If you would please follow me," Hetty moved near silently into the hallway and through a door Marty hadn't bothered exploring when he'd been here all those weeks before. It opened to a staircase and he moved easily after her, almost shocked at his easy capitulation, as G and Kensi followed them. He had expected it to open up to a basement. He hadn't expected the basement to have a pool that looked larger than her outdoor one, surrounded by warm red tiles and large potted plants like an underground oasis.

He froze in the doorway and stared. By the pools edge Eric and Sam were knelt down and looking at what he assumed was a pool testing kit held between them. Eric looked up then, saw him, and gave a bright cheerful wave.

"Hey!" He grinned before being distracted by whatever he was looking at. Sam looked up and watched Deeks carefully, clearly trying to get a read on him. Deeks, for the most part, didn't know what to think. Callen's warm hand on his shoulder made him flinch but he didn't shove it off and Callen gently pushed him the rest of the way into the room.

"What is this?" He asked, looking about the windowless room and noticed the exercise equipment at the far end of the tiled space, a large flat screen tv bolted on the wall before it. There was a faux-wicker patio set and a glass table along with several cushioned deck chairs rounding the nearest corner of the pool and an honest to god Jade tree the size of Hetty mixed in with the comfortable setting. He looked down at Hetty to find her smiling knowingly at him.

"Forgive me for not saying anything sooner Mr. Deeks. This pool has always been a part of my home and given your unique circumstance I thought it fitting to make changes that I have been thinking about for years." She gestured to where Eric was still staring at the plastic thing he was holding and Sam was still watching Marty intently. "Mr. Beale and Mr. Hannah have been working these last few weeks to convert it into a saltwater pool and have added a false current and oxygenator to make it a little less stale than a normal body of sitting water might be. We understand that it is not the ocean and that you will still feel the urge for the freedom it provides, but it is certainly better than a mere tub would be-" Marty dropped to his knees, wrapped his arms around her and dragged her into his chest. She was startled by the move, but she recovered quickly, wrapping her own arms around him and letting him hide his face in her shoulder. He only gave himself a minute or so, refusing to fall apart completely but desperately needing the time to just absorb what they, what she, had just done for him.

When he pulled back he was thankful he didn't have tears in his eyes (that was the quickest way to ruining his rep he could think of) and was hard pressed not to notice the collective relief from everyone around him. He could guess that they feared he might react badly, think of it as another tank that they were trying to shove him into, but he refused to even entertain the idea. That was clearly so far from what they were trying to do for him and he was literally overwhelmed by the generosity of.

"There are no cameras and you can lock the door from the inside should you choose. Consider this a sanctuary at your disposal for as long as you choose, whenever you choose," she finished. Warmth and relief was visible in her eyes and he still didn't know what to say, looking at everyone as they kept enough distance to not crowd him but wanting to show they would support him. Seriously, he was not going to cry.

"We did as much research as we could on the salt and oxygenation levels but we figured you would tell us what needs tweaking and what temperature you prefer," Eric grinned, clearly thinking this was fantastic. "It probably won't taste right but since you breathe through your skin we hoped that wouldn't be to big of a problem," he shrugged. "Nell wanted to be here but Vance needed her to stay and work with Hester's team," his tone explained exactly what he thought of that but he cut himself off there to look happily at Marty.

"It's ready," Sam agreed and Marty, no longer able to resist now that he had been given the freedom, immediately unclipped his holster and passed it to Callen. He stood, toed of his shoes and socks and, not even hesitating pulled all his shirts over his head in one move. Clearly nobody had expected such an enthusiastic acceptance, and he understood that considering how he'd reacted to them even knowing what he was. He stepped towards the pool, drawn in by the gentle beckoning of the water when heard the door to the stairwell open.

"You don't have to go," he said, softer than he had planned, and he didn't turn around to look at them as he heard them hault their exit. He swallowed thickly, literally beating the fear and instinct to keep them away far down. He didn't want that anymore, he didn't want to keep hiding and being afraid and he refused to hide from the people who, for once in his life, were telling him that it was okay to be like this. "Stay," he ordered, firmly now, confident. He shucked the rest of his clothes and without another moment of hesitation he dove into the cool water.

He embraced the change, for the first time since before he was grabbed he made the decision himself and shifted with a mostly painless ease. No pressure, no fear, no force. The way it should be. His ankles popped out of joint and stretched, his bones lost density and became flexible, the hot squeeze of his legs pulling together and the pleasant burn as flesh formed and merged and built. Nerves reformed to feel every temperature change, every current, every tiny piece of debris that brushed gently against him. Power and speed and strength and he rolled through the water as was his right, owning it, accepting it. It was nothing like the tanks.

It took seconds, his body stretched and then he spread his fin wide, flicked his tail powerfully, and he was off. It was a deep pool, ten feet all around and while that was unusual for an indoor setup he was not going to complain. It was larger than his cages had been, it gave him the freedom to roll and turn and kick with purpose. He couldn't resist cutting around its perimeter hard and fast, stretching and releasing the tip of his energy before he burst back out of the surface and took a breath of air that he didn't need but loved the taste of all the same. His tail didn't scrape the bottom when his shoulders were out of the water and he couldn't keep the grin off his face.

Over on the other end of the pool his people had gathered, carefully not looking his way to give him the privacy he hadn't asked for and appreciated all the same. He watched them, everyone there except Nell, for him. He'd always known he'd do everything in his power (had even done so on occasion) to protect these people after only being with them for a year, but the sheer possessiveness he felt course through him now took him by surprise.

His. They were his now, and he protected his own. He didn't know if this was a mer thing, or a human thing and he didn't care; he wasn't giving this up for anything less than his own death. He'd have to be careful not to become too overbearing around them.

He ducked under the water and gently, slowly, curved around to where they had gathered and, without concern, pulled himself out of the pool to sit on the cool tiled edge. Water ran off him in thick rivulets, creating a pool on the deck all around him. He bent his knees and pulled his entire fin out of the water, splaying his tale out and flaring the fins on his hips in display.

Jesus, he'd never, ever wanted to display this side of himself for anyone before and now this foreign need to preen and be looked at and accepted by them was almost overwhelming. Definitely had to be some mer instinct, because he'd never felt the urge to show off this much as a man before. At least not quite as strongly.

"Okay," he used one arm to prop himself upright, took a breath, and looked up. They were all watching him, staring more like, and the lack of disgust he felt at the attention was a relief. "Ta da," he didn't know what to do with his other hand so he waved it at himself and then let his forearm rest on his waist while they looked their fill.

"Oh my god," Kensi hushed and Marty looked at her with a warm smile.

"Better than Thundercats?"

"Screw the Thundercats Marty, you look…you're…"

"Beautiful," Sam finished when she faltered and Marty looked sharply too him, reading the bald truth easily on his face and the complete lack of shame as he admitted it. Marty had never been called beautiful before (in the future he would be reminding Sam he said that, loudly and with glee). His grin widened and he flicked his tail off the ground, letting the delicate looking flesh roll towards him through the air and then gracefully curving it back to the tiled ground just behind.

Sam hadn't been lying when he called Marty beautiful. It was a simple statement of fact and yet somehow still didn't feel descriptive enough to him. Aside from his friends general good looks and well sculpted body his fin was out this world. Burnished copper and bronze colours blended and slid together, mixing with bright golden streaks that created shifting patterns and shapes all across his skin. Highlighting it all was a rich dark black that occasionally shimmered deep green (later Marty would show them a scale, letting them see how it started black where the root merged with his body and quickly shifted into the practically shining golden shades). Sam remembered how he had looked back in Masters lab, but he hadn't realized how pale Marty had been then. Pale to the point where all the stunning dark shades had been leached of colour, how the fins on his hips and the tips of his large tail hadn't been framed and streaked and highlighted with any of the black that made him look sleeker and more dangerous all at once.

Marty let them look their fill, splayed out for them so differently than the last time Sam had seen him: propped against a wall and scared out of his mind. The change was astronomical. Sam didn't think he'd ever been trusted this much by anyone other than his daughters, and he was certain that the others also understood what Marty was trying to tell them without words.

He felt a fierce flare of protectiveness as Marty made himself vulnerable to them. He noted the small scars on his flesh where his scales had been ripped out, noted the freshly healed skin where he had scraped himself trying to crawl away, he remembered how warm and real Marty had felt as he'd carried him out of that hell. Not on his watch, never again.

After a few minutes of this Marty winked and rolled himself back over the pool edge and into the water with a splash. He surfaced a moment later with his fin swishing smoothly below him, easy to see through the water, catching and reflecting the overhead lights. He grinned at them widely and, for the first time Sam had ever noted, looked truly happy.

"Would you go swim already," Callen laughed at him and Sam looked over to see G with a matching grin and laughed himself because holy shit this was surreal and he wouldn't change a damn thing. With a cheeky grin Marty turned his back on them and with a powerful kick he leapt out of the water in a curved dive before disappearing back beneath the surface, the black pointy tips of his tail the last to go.

"Nell is going to be so upset that she missed this," Eric sighed beside him and Sam looked to him.

"I wouldn't worry about it, looks like he's possibly developed a bit of an exhibitionist streak," he smiled softly and raised his eyes pointedly when Marty burst from the water at the far end of the pool with a happy cry before splashing loudly back under. One day, maybe not soon, but one day Marty was going to relax enough to even let them join him. Sam was looking forward to the day Marty let him watch his back in the ocean, finally having someone he could truly swim with. The wait was going to be hell, but worth it.

"A true honour," Hetty said gravely and Sam nodded. "One that we will make sure is never taken from us again."

"Over my dead body," Kensi swore quietly, but they all nodded in agreement. You didn't fuck with family.

"Hey, lets' get some music going here," Eric suddenly declared and Hetty, smiling at the noise Eric let loose on the speaker systems, retreated upstairs to order dinner. Sam had the feeling that it was going to be a late night.

He was right.

End.

All right! That's all folks! Thank you very much for all the wonderful reviews, for the honour of having this fic 'favourited,' and for simply giving it a chance and sticking through it with me :D I give you mad props.

I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it! The ending was probably sappier than I initially intended but I am a sucker for happy endings. I should point out that just because things are getting back to normal amongst the team and Marty's finally feeling comfortable with them and with himself, I do believe he still has a lot of traumas to work through. Assault of any kind isn't something that is easily brushed aside and can stick with us for years, even lifetimes. Both Marty and his team still have a lot to work through but that doesn't mean that joy can't be found in between the more difficult times.

Yeah, that's all I really have to say on that matter.

Thanks again!

DF.


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